


Always crying and always drunk (in my defence I wasn't supposed to be around this long)

by DingyAntelope58



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: ACTUAL fake/pretend relationship where they aren't uselessly pining, Action, Action & Romance, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019) Season 4 Spoilers, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Crime Fighting, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Girls Kissing, Gore, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Neuro-Divergent Ivy (Carmen Sandiego), Neuro-Divergent Zack (Carmen Sandiego), Nightmares, Pandemics, Panic Attacks, Parent Shadowsan (Carmen Sandiego), Player (Carmen Sandiego 2019) has ADHD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Stimming, Team as Family, Trans Character, Trans Player (Carmen Sandiego), Vomiting, and the trope fake/pretend relationship, btw cleo is a trans woman because ki accidentally wrote cuntless cleo, gray: i dont want to go to therapy bitch, ily lots ki, ivy and carmen are kinda dating but they're also kinda... not. idk there's some denial, shadowsan: i will drag you there if i have to do it u little shite, shout out to my best friend ki who beta'd everything and listened to me ramble, this is NOT redcrackle. pls dont interpret is as such, when we were discussing this fic LOL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DingyAntelope58/pseuds/DingyAntelope58
Summary: “Carmen is lost, and she feels awful. I know what happened to you guys while she was under Bellum’s control, and I know it means nothing, but I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t stop her sooner” he apologises, wrapping a weather and scarred hand around Ivy’s smaller fist and squeezing. She rubs tears out of her eyes, grimacing.“She needs her friends and family more than ever, to reassure her that she is loved, that what she wants matters. She threw away all her happiness and peace for other people, that’s just what she does. Too selfless for her own good, sometimes, she’ll let herself burn before anyone else has to suffer. She needs someone with her, to tell her that she is good enough. Be that person, Ivy. Be her anchor, the person she can go to. Carmen loves you and trusts you, you just-” he asks, almost out of breath with the confession.“Shut the hell up, Graham. Carmen doesn’t want me that way, not the way I want her” she whispers, resting her head on her arms.---A story of denial, love, explosions, healing, trauma and a deep hatred for vanilla creamer.
Relationships: Gray | Crackle & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep, Gray | Crackle & Ivy, Gray | Crackle & Zack, Ivy & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep & Zack, Ivy/Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Comments: 58
Kudos: 27





	1. And I watched you break, (like glass you shatter), said it's my mistake, (I make things harder)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Furries, Among Other Lost Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794175) by [portrait_inayellowdress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portrait_inayellowdress/pseuds/portrait_inayellowdress). 



> this is not Redcrackle. do not interpret is as such. Redcrackle is borderline paedophiliac post canon. Graham would have to be at least age 24 (probably way higher because he appears to have degrees other than electrician as well, such as engineering) when he met Carmen, who was no older than 17. I don't condone this ship and my content is *not* for Redcrackle shippers.
> 
> Pls dont judge me about my incomplete works. I'm handing the writing and creation of yssmiyc to someone else. You can totally apply by literally just commenting "I want to write the next chapter" and gimme ur discord details. I'll send the ENTIRE story so far, even later chapters that are almost entirely finished.
> 
> Anyway! Graham is depressed, Zack is a twink, Ivy is the buffest of buff girls, Player quotes Vine and TikTok, Carmen never processed her emotions and separated what she wanted from what other people expected from her and Shadowsan is now a therapist.

_“Don’t worry, Mr Calloway. Your uncle Devide left you a property in the coastal town of Mallacoota before his death, and your parents were not given legal ownership of the building despite your… absence from the country” the consultant at Commonwealth had said, smiling weakly after the pause. Graham nodded, hoping to exude professional understanding of how the hell inheritance and property ownership works. He had no clue, but if he got a free retirement home 6 hours away from a major city and in a large tourist town, he would not complain or complicate matters._

_But then an arson attempt caused the worst bushfire of the decade and his dear family property was reduced to ash and rubble in a matter of minutes._

_The call had been so close, with him helping evacuate neighbours and their pets, that he had ended up sitting in the shallow water of the bay, holding his phone (which had no reception, along with the entire town) above his head and watching the dark red flames reach high into the sky. It singed his skin with a crimson sunburn like flush for weeks, and the roar of the inferno screamed in his ears for nights, and only quietened when the strength of a drink smothered it._

_He’d been living in a cheap rental house in the Western Suburbs, watching brown rain filled with ash fall and people walk around with asbestos or construction masks strapped onto their face. By the time Shadowsan broke in everyone was wearing masks and staying inside for a completely different reason._

“Carmen was fearful that you may not be alive after the destruction of your town and the following pandemic. I came to make sure you were both alive and safe,” Shadowsan had said very loudly in the pitch black of 3am. Graham had leapt out of bed, reaching for a camping and combat knife beside his bed.

“Jesus almighty fucken Christ! Why the hell would you do that?!” he whispered loudly, gingerly putting the knife back on the side table and dragging an abandoned shirt to himself from his desk chair. His movements were still stiff and done in short bursts of energy. His nerves still felt muted, like his skin was layered in flaking paint, with every touch was only the barest sensation.

“I am breaking COVID compliance protocol in Victoria, by visiting you from overseas. I do not want to be caught after curfew by police,” he said plainly as Graham choked out a wince when the shirt brushes against his tender skin.

He knows that Shadowsan is eyeing the electrical burn scar on his upper abdomen, one that looks like red scraped skin branching across up to his shoulder and down to thighs like a perverted tattoo of blood. Nearest where the crackle rod struck huge yellow blisters had formed, and after being drained by a doctor (curious once he gave the barest of answers), they now were huge flaky bubbles he had to resist tearing from his body. He couldn’t sleep with the bandages on.

“Now that you know I’m not Kentucky Fried Graham or sitting in ICU, you can go back to America and tell your high and holy eminence Carmen that she can stop babysitting me.” He snarled, “I don’t need to be under surveillance Shadowsan,” limping towards the dresser and grabbing the pitcher and pouring himself a glass.

“My name is Suhara. Shadowsan is a mask I do not like to use in front of those I trust,” he replied with as much warmth as Graham had ever heard from him. Graham turned to see that the other man’s arms were crossed and his smile was strained out of discomfort, but he was being brutally honest. Graham drank his glass of water, gasping as he finished it. The problem with an electrical shock that powerful is that it seriously messes with your breathing, and his lungs are ‘slightly disproportionate in size’ now.

“Oh wow. Totally best bros bonding session. I’m truly honoured. Tell Carmen I’m fine and I’d rather she stays out of my life for a while.” He huffed, “I don’t need to be making her existence any more difficult and traumatic than it already is,” crawling back into bed and burrowing into the sheets. Suhara didn’t move and inch, standing in the dark at the end of his bed like an ominous demon twin to his existing conscience.

“Team Red offers you lodging in their headquarters in San Diego. We can get you into America on a private plane,” his old instructor said, “Carmen misses you. Her mental health has deteriorated since the end of VILE.”

Graham leapt out of bed and ignored his screaming muscles, “Did Carmen finally discover just how fucken shit it is to lose your memories?! It’s a good thing no one else ever went through that! And I’m so glad she has the support from the friends and family I never fucking had!” he yelled, sending mental apologies to his lovely neighbours for disturbing them.

“My family is either dead, or hate my guts, _Suhara_. I don’t need Carm’s pity and I don’t need to reconcile. I just want to be alone, where I don’t cause all these fucking problems for everyone else,” he finished, panting for breath and feeling very dizzy like his body was beginning to float to the ceiling. He collapsed face first on the bed, letting out a hoarse cry as his burn was agitated severely by the impact.

“… Carmen is not the only one who needs help. You two need to discuss your trauma and communicate like responsible adults. You are coming to California. You can choose if I bring you there conscious or not,” Suhara spoke with such finality that Graham simply whimpered pitifully into the sheets and nodded.

“Unconscious please”

\--

It was easy to fall back into an easy rhythm with Zack and Ivy, despite everything that happened over the last year. The warm San Diego late morning sunlight streams in through the wide kitchen windows, and when Carmen carefully treads out of the solitude of her bedroom, Ivy is assembling a range of breakfast foods on the bench as Zack stares at his phone while pouring a cup of coffee. She leans against the doorway, silent in her observation, a faint smile playing at the edge of her mouth as she clamps down on the gleeful twitch of her lips.

“Cahm!” Zack cheers, nearly throwing his phone into the kitchen sink with excitement. She winces internally, feeling her body stiffen and begin to turn clammy in preparation for the contact. Zack evidently notices nothing, and wraps her into one of his warm as a furnace but bony hugs. The sharp elbows and prickly ribs aren’t comfortable, but they are familiar, and she returns the action with an affectionate squeeze. It’s rather prolonged, and they pull away just as Carmen is bombarded by Ivy wrapping her into her arms and lifting her into a brutally strong embrace. Unlike Zack, muscle and fat clings to every bone in her body, and her hugs are soft and warm, like being crushed by pillows and weighted blankets.

“Do yah want sunny-side up eggs and sausages, Cahm?” Ivy asks as she pulls away, already reaching for olive oil to pour into the frying pan that hisses when empty.

“That would be wonderful, Ives” Zack shoves his phone into her hands and starts to rummage through the fridge, pulling out a gallon of creamer to add to his coffee.

“Just put my playlist on shuffle play, Cahm!” he grins, making a cup of coffee that appears to be more sugar, creamer and chocolate powder than coffee.

“What about my playlist?!” Ivy snaps, kicking him in the shin. “We’ve listened to yours for days!” she whines, sliding some beef sausages into the pan with her bare hands, ignoring the light oil splash as she does so.

“Iron Maiden, Mother Mother and Penelope Scott aren’t exactly, like, ‘welcoming Carmen back to the house and fun dancing’ music. It’s more like ‘sit in your workshop for hours alone trying to modify all your ACME gear’ tunes. Y’know?” Zack argues as Carmen smiles scrolling through his Spotify, trying to find a good playlist for the morning while the siblings bicker loudly behind them.

“You can play your dumb music, but make sure to put Sex With A Ghost, Jackie and Wilson, Cigarette Ahegao _and_ Wrecking Ball in your queue or you get no bacon” she says firmly, turning over the sausages with a pair of tongs.

“No bacon? That’s one threat that will always make Zack fold,” Carmen chuckles. Zack hands her a cup of fresh earl grey, in the style of Zack she has grown to tolerate (far too much milk).

“Any songs for you Cahm?” he asks begrudgingly, stealing a sliver of bacon off the plate as Ivy yells and smacks his arm.

“I’m feeling rather nostalgic today. British Bombs after yours, Ives” Carmen smiles, staring out the window at the docks of San Diego, watching huge cargo ships and wealthy yachts sail past the warehouse. Ivy is still cooking when the music starts playing, and Zack cheers as his sister groans and punches him again on his arm. Carmen stifles her laughter behind a hand and brushes her loose hair from her eyes.

“Tumble outta bed, and I stumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition, and yawn and stretch and try to come to life!” Zack sings, his voice solid and soft. Carmen, even after years, is pleasantly surprised every time he sings, with a strong tone and perfect pitch. Ivy had quietly explained that he’d been a part of the school choir as a child, and never alluded further. Carmen’s seen the curving and shiny scars stretched across his chest, and she spent enough years at VILE hearing conversations and living with the Countess Cleo to connect the dots in her head.

“Jump in the shower, and the blood starts pumpin', out on the streets-” Ivy and Zack are both singing now, as Carmen gets swept up into their euphoric and simplistic joy and taps her finger against the tabletop in time with the song.

They’re interrupted by a loud and sudden thump at the kitchen entrance and a, “who the fuck is singing Dolly Parton at 8 in the morning, I will strangle you with my bare hands,” someone growls and Carmen’s neck cracks as she whips her head upwards to stare at the newcomer.

Graham, in an unbuttoned shirt, glowering in hatred at Zack and leaning against the doorframe. A scar shaped like a disfigured human carved across his bare chest. Carmen feels herself flinch in shock before any other sounds has a chance register to her ears.

Sounds like shouts of panic and surprise.


	2. I see the hate in her face (Tell her you love her)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end notes I'm gonna explain why I chose RedIvy for this fanfic and what's kinda happening with them!
> 
> The title is from PRBLMS by 6LACK,
> 
> Please enjoy! If there's references you don't get I'll be happy to explain! They'll be really vague or specific.
> 
> TW // So Carmen has a nightmare and a p^nic attack and cuts her hair for coping. If that could upset you then please don't read the chapter or prepare yourself for everything after "Graham’s passed out asleep on the couch..."  
> The nightmare and it's aftermath also has some kinda gross imagery (decomposing/dissolving bodies, drowning, slight choking, violence, a little bit of horniness, and being rejected by your found family, and implied/referenced s^lf-h^rm)
> 
> Also... Graham literally never learnt Zack and Ivy's names so they're Taller Ginger and Angry Ginger lol. Plus he knows that Player was *not* a Kiwi in s2e7, because his vowel sounds are COMPLETELY wrong and obviously Canadian.

Graham knows full well that his arms tremble when he rests them on the benchtop, and the side of his face itches more than ever. He watches Carmen very carefully, like one inspects a wild animal when they don’t know how it will react to their presence. Her eyes travel across his uncovered torso and the fractured skin and flesh, a strained grimace pulling at her features. Angry Ginger grips her hand tightly, giving it a reassuring squeeze and glancing between them. She turns down the music with her other hand, as Graham sends a charming smile to the Taller Ginger, also the boy who is blushing an incredible crimson as he stares at Graham’s bare chest and abdomen. It was flattering, to be seen through that lens despite the injuries and muscle atrophy and developing beer gut.

“Gray?” she whispers, soft and terrified, and Graham chokes down a hoarse cry. He leans on the tabletop, hoping to exude calm sexiness instead of permanent nerve damage and incredible pain.

“‘Morning, Lambkins” he chuckles, and clearly the hoarse and broken voice is a shock because she flinches violently. Graham tries to step forward, but puts too much weight on his left arm and stifles a yelp. Clearly she notices, the gasp of horror is enough of an answer.

“You. Tallest ranga in the group, the hoodie, driving one” he hisses through his teeth, clicking his fingers and pointing at Taller Ginger. It seems to break him out his ogling and blatant panicking and he jumps, blinking wildly.

“Could you please go into the room back there and grab the bottle of tablets in the side pocket of my backpack?” he asks, eyes closed as he breathes deeply. He knows his muscles are stiff and seizing, and is truly grateful when he realises Angry Ginger is guiding him towards the couch and forcing him into a recline.

“What are you doing in our house?” is the first thing she asks, while handing him a glass of cool water. He gulps down the whole glass, gasping and coughing by the end. Carmen hovers around the couch, obviously pacing and distressed. Her loose hair looks dead and heavy, like he remembers from VILE island

“Suhara literally broke into my house at 3am and forced me to come here” he states blandly, sighing as he goes limp against the cushions. Taller Ginger returns with the bottle and hands it to him carefully, making too much eye contact for it to not be half hilarious. He thanks him and pops two in his mouth, drinking half the second glass that Angry Ginger offers him.

“That’s… slightly believable” Angry Ginger mutters, walking up behind Carmen and wrapping her massive and unreasonably muscular arms around her waist. Carmen leans into her touch, smiling weakly. Graham watches with curiosity, throwing a reassuring smile at them.

“He is telling the truth” the new voice adds, as the whole group jolt with fright. Suhara walks calmly into the living room, cradling a tablet in his arms and tapping at it with a single finger. It buzzes with static as Suhara perches it on a small black stand on the coffee table. Graham stares in shock and outrage as a boy no older than 15 stares back, clacking away at a keyboard and sipping from a can of potent energy drink.

“That’s a child!” he blurts in surprise, as the camera shakes violently and the boy cheers loudly. The team all jump in shock when he gets as close to his microphone as possible.

“And that’s-” his sentence breaks off into wheezing laughter and sobbing noises. Suhara leans towards the device and clicks a button, and the audio feed cuts out abruptly.

“I decided to bring Mr Calloway back to the United States because his home was recently destroyed in a bushfire and I think both him and Carmen would benefit from reconciling” he drops this bombshell on the team without time for processing.

“You said I was invited by the team!” Graham shouts, still sentenced to a recline on the couch. Angry Ginger presses several soft kisses onto Carmen’s exposed shoulder with incredible patience, and Graham can feel the happiness well up inside his heart. She deserves someone like Angry Ginger. Loyal, caring, stubborn, heroic. He never could be the family she needed, and it’s relieving to see her take back that humanity and love VILE stripped away from her with violence and cruelty.

_“Gray” Black Sheep whispers, as he jolts slightly in his seat. The student labs are his favourite haven between classes when the canteen is oppressively loud and crowded. He pulls off his goggles and turns off the power source to his modified stun baton. Trying to move it’s components into a sharp sword and adjusting it to cut through almost any material is no easy or quick task, but the new weapon design is his own child._

_“Shit, Merino. You have to stop sneaking up on me like that. I’ll have grey hair before I reach 40” he chuckles. He stops when he notices her conflicted expression and the way she grips her arm tightly to her side._

_“Everything ok there Mutton?” he asks softly. Black Sheep flinches, squeezing her eyes closed in fear. He steps out of his seat and walks slowly towards her. She flinches a second time and blurts out her confession._

_“I like girls” Graham stops, puzzled and shocked. And it hurts. The way she tenses, prepared for some kind of hatred or disgust. Was it him, or something he said one time, that warranted distrust? Has she revealed it to someone she shouldn’t have many years ago? Bitter black pain festers in his heart like a cancer as he walks closer and wraps his arms around her. She drops her forehead to the centre of his chest, trembling in his arms._

_“Did I ever tell you that I like boys and girls?” he murmurs, and a hoarse cry erupts from her throat. “I’m sorry. Love you Jumbuck”_

He turns to Tall Ginger, who looks absolutely exhausted and disappointed in this turn of events, rubbing the bridge of his nose and holding in a groan. Graham throws the boy an annoyed glare, which is returns with a tired smile. Maybe it’s just because it’s his sister.

“Does anyone want breakfast?” Angry Ginger asks, pulling away. Carmen looks visibly upset, pulling her arm away when she reaches out for her. New relationship jitters? Graham wonders, as the boy on the tablet (now breathing properly and un-muted) rolls his eyes.

“I don’t care what you cook, to be fair” Tall Ginger answers. 

“To be fair” Carmen echoes in an awful British accent.

“To be faaair” Angry Ginger repeats, grinning like an absolute fool.g0

“To be fair” Suhara mumbles, tone dead and annoyed. Graham blinks at them in confusion, glancing between the team.

“It’s from a Canadian show. The team loves it” the teenager explains, as Graham nods warily.

“Can I have some fried eggs and uhhhhhhhhh whatever you pick. I’m not fussed” he answers. Angry Ginger nods politely and walks away. Carmen starts pacing the living room when she leaves. The group watches her reach the staircase, turn on her heel and march towards the dresser over and over.

“Cahm…” Tall Ginger asks in his thick, frankly-hilarious accent. She jumps and stares at them in shock. The team watches her carefully, even the boy silent except for the slow clacking of his keyboard and the whir of computers.

“It’s nice to see you, Gray” she says curtly, crossing her arms defensively and staring at her shoes. “I’m going to workout for a few hours. Call me when it’s lunch time” she finishes, and rushes out of the room. Graham frowns at her retreating door and rolls his eyes when he hears the door slam. Anger bubbles up and festers into burning annoyance. He comes all the way here, away from his own country, and she avoids him.

“She needs time, Graham” Suhara says quietly, probably hoping to reassure him. He grunts, trying to pull himself off the couch as Taller Ginger rushes to help him.

“Yeah. Red’s never been had expertise or skill in healthily processing her emotions. She’ll punch something until she nearly passes out, come eat lunch and then pine for Ivy like a dumbass” the boy sighs, and before Graham can puzzle over his last comment, a memory surfaces and he grins.

“Peter the New Zealander, huh? I knew you were never a Kiwi from the vowel sounds but damn. Didn’t know you were a 14 year old Canadian” he asks mischievously and the boy groans.

“I’m ashamed of my own attempt. I just tried to copy Korg from Ragnarok. How did you know I was Canadian though?” Graham is relieved that he can join in on banter, and laughs in good-faith.

“Let’s just say my… education at VILE made sure I met a lot of people from a lot of places” he replies, and Suhara huffs out a chuckle.

\---

“一, 二, 三, 四, 左边” Carmen mutters, throwing her fists at the sand-filled punching bag until her thoughts drown in the repetition. She’s been in this room for all day, and the nagging hunger and exhausted ache of her muscles is nothing compared to the scrambling confusion and pain in her mind.

“一, 二, 三, 四, 右边” as she shifts stance, aiming for the right side of the bag and circling it. Images of Graham, scarred and in pain, make her throat close up, and she stops training as she gasps for breath and stares at the floor, hands on her knees. She knows that her friends are giving her space and time to process, but they mustn’t know her as well as they believe if they think she’s going to even try thinking about the implications of this.

Suhara lied to her, she knows that. But it wasn’t for nefarious reasons, she also knows that. And she should really try to reconnect with Graham, she of course knows _that_. She knows many things. But no matter how much Suhara will preach healing and repairing her friendship, or Zack and Player just insist she tries telling Ivy how she feels, she won’t. Because she can’t control these risks, these variables. The consequences are too great, but this limbo of anxiety is safe. It might be hurting her, but it’s so much better than what happens when everything derails.

She picks up a towel, scraping dried and caking sweat off her skin. She stinks, like an overripe lemon, and it makes her gag slightly. As soon as she has a cold shower, she’ll just go straight to sleep. Deal with all this mess tomorrow. Ignoring her problems with her personal life is one of her best talents, she believes firmly. _I’ll talk to Graham about everything tomorrow and it’ll be totally fine_ , she tells herself.

Climbing into bed, in a fresh tank top and shorts, she wraps the light covers around herself, too exhausted to trap herself in a spiral of thoughts, and falls asleep in only a few moments.

_Graham’s passed out asleep on the couch in the student’s lounge at VILE, facing the cushions and curled up. Black Sheep giggles, trying to stifle her laughter behind her palm. She sneaks closer, yelling out with laughter as she shoves him awake. But he doesn’t react, and his flesh is stiff as a board beneath her. She manages to roll him onto his back, and gasps in horror. The side of his face that was downwards is discoloured purple and red, and his eyes empty. Black and red liquid drips from his nice, crusted and dried over his face. She stumbles and falls to the ground, screaming out his name._

_“Gray!” her yell is hoarse, and the pitch of her screaming rises as his body decomposes at an impossible rate, first a mottle of green and yellow and smelling of death and rot so strong she gags, and then a festering black corpse hanging off the bones, covered in crawling maggots. That same black and red liquid starts to spread, off the couch and onto the floor. Black Sheep tries to crawl away, but her haste doesn’t stop it from reaching her. She can see clumps of hair and flesh in the mix, and suddenly drops into a pool of it, struggling to stay afloat. She gets dragged under, everything turning black. She screams, the foul liquid filling her lungs and choking her._

_“Cahm…” Ivy whispers against her collarbone, stroking down her sides with reverent softness. She gasps and moans against her skin as Carmen touches her, panting hard and sweating. It’s nearly pitch black in the room, and the only light comes from a lamp near the door Ivy built from scrap wood. She doesn’t know how she got here, but she can’t smell cancerous decay, only exertion and the sweet musk of their arousal._

_“Iv-” she breaks on the last syllable when the ginger bites her neck, nipping at the flesh. She tugs at her long crimson hair, and Carmen can’t be ashamed of the moaning cry she makes. It’s bliss, and everything she never could’ve had but always wanted. Until Ivy tugs too hard, and her gasp turns pained. The ginger wraps her hair around her stout hand, staring into her eyes with a hate-filled scowl as she pulls hard._

_“Why did you murder ‘im, Cahm? What did ever do? Why did you kill ‘im, dammit!” she yells, pressing her arm against her throat and pressing her into the mattress hard enough to bruise. Carmen tries to choke out an answer, but air can’t reach her lungs when Ivy’s huge and muscled arm is putting weight on it. She worries it’s gonna break, and fearing for her life, she kicks upwards and forces her off._

_“Carmen” Suhara growls, and she falls to the floor, on her hands and knees. She stands up, looking around the loading dock. The whole team stand before her, a dark wooden coffin covered in dark blue flowers with a crackle rod balanced on top sitting in the midst of them._

_Ivy and Zack are glaring at her in disgust, and even Player stands there. But everything below the chest is blurry, and even though she knows he has legs and waist, she can’t focus on them._

_“Look at the coffin, Carmen. You’re the one who put Graham in there. Our team is no place for traitors and murderers” he continues, and she falls back into the dark and greasy water._

_“Wait, no please! I didn’t kill him! He was dead before I got there! Please you have to believe me!” she cries out, choking on the San Diego dock water. Chunks of sytrofoam and plastic and algae fill her lungs, as she coughs them up before being dragged under the water._

_“Who would want you around?” Ivy murmurs, the voice muddled by the water._

Carmen bolts upright, coughing and clawing at her throat hard enough to scrape skin. Her skin is soaked in sweat, and the covers are tangled in her legs as they kick them away. Echoes of the nightmare bang on the walls of her skull like escaping demons and she cries out into the darkness. She can’t breathe, she can’t breath, she can’t-

She rushes to the bathroom suite and coughs up bile into the toilet bowl, tears streaming down her face. Her hair sits in a curtain around her face, and she knows flecks of her stomach acid must be getting on it. Her throat burns now, singed by her bile and aching as a sob escapes her throat. Sweat weighs down her hair, and it’s an exhausting pressure.

The whole room is still dark except for the moonlight that shows the bed, and the puddle of sweat on it. She flicks on the bathroom light, harsh light blinding her. She hisses aloud and climbs into the shower, scrubbing at her skin furiously. The water and gravity makes her hair even heavier, and the memories of Ivy violently tugging at it flash through her mind. She nearly slips on the shower floor, backing herself against a tiled wall and clutching her head.

She spies a pair of scissors hanging on the frame that holds all her hair products and grabs them, nearly cutting open her palm in her haste. She takes as much of her hair as possible and cuts it in a matter of moments. The bowl cut just reaches past her chin. She feels it with her hands, before taking more clumps from the side. She cuts as close to the scalp as possible, only nicking her ear one and watching the blood run down her arm and dripping onto the tile floor at her elbow.

It’s better than bringing the scissors to skin, and right now she needs to cut _something_ before she starts to feel insane. Or more insane than she already is.

She climbs out of the shower, and stares at the mirror. The sides are choppy and short, but the top is left long enough that it reaches beneath her chin. She hasn’t done anything on the back, and if Graham were alive he’d call it a mullet and laugh at-

But Graham is alive. He’s alive and asleep in this very house.

She nearly falls over in relief, sinking to the floor and leaning against the wall. She knows she’s still naked, and pulls on her sweat soaked tank top and work shorts. She feels faint as she walks towards Ivy’s room, gut churning violently. She knocks on the door weakly, not stopping until there’s a rough growl and it opens to Ivy in only her sports bra and boxers, looking Carmen up and down with horrified eyes.

“Help” Carmen whispers, eyes welling with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zach on his close friends story: so my best friend is a lesbian and we live together except she bought her Australian childhood friend to the states because his house got burnt down and he has a chronic injury and I feel really awful for him yeah but he's hot as fuck like SMOKING SEGGSEE BOI and I kinda want him to rail me what do I do?!?!?!?!  
> Player, seeing it: go to horny jail
> 
> Can you tell I never expected this story to get that intense? The pace is going to calm down a *lot* after this chapter. I listened to PRBLMS by 6LACK while writing the nightmare sequence.
> 
> EXPLAINING CARMIVY  
> They have a very good friendship (not a euphemism lol) and they have a lot of non-sexual intimacy in it (cuddling, hand holding, sitting in laps etc) and they're both too afraid to admit they want to be romantically involved because they're in the mindset that "this is enough, and even though it hurts, it's too much of a risk to say anything and get rejected". Carmen believes this because for so long as Sandiego and Black Sheep she never had the option of choosing her happiness over a mission or others, and kinda pushes her feelings away out of fear, so she believes "Ivy doesn't want it but I do, except what I want doesn't matter". 
> 
> Ivy has comp het/lesbophobia (even though she's bi) because she doesn't want to make Carmen uncomfortable or make her feel entitled or forced to be with her just to be happy (because she *is* smart enough to know Carmen would do that if she didn't feel the same because girl too selfless) so she holds back these feelings out of... anxiety and self-preservation I guess.
> 
> So yeah they're basically Glimbow from She-Ra AND Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko.


	3. You really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf is creamer bitches drink creamer who puts like melted ice cream in a coffee I hate creamer make it illegal use frothy milk like a normal person dumbass CREAMER IS SIN
> 
> I had to research the healing of electrical burns and the images in the website are so graphic I got nauseous
> 
> TW // very internalised homophobia, mentions of transphobia, implied/referenced transphobia, crying, self-deprecation, injury detail
> 
> Graham is 41 years old in this AU because of his university education... so I made him a DILF. And he has reading glasses and beard now. Sue me.
> 
> I was re-watching s4 while writing and I forgot how funny Graham is in the earlier episodes. When he meets Devineaux? His confused and upset Labrador puppy face for a mugshot? When he got kidnapped by Robby? Him meeting Chief? Trying to help that boy? Iconic.
> 
> NO CONTEXT SPOILERS  
> \- shadowsan wins award for the most passive-aggresive "darling" in history  
> \- aflw is just wlw with some extra letters tbh  
> \- ivy accidentally builds an incendiary grenade  
> \- "have you ever eaten a kangaroo?"  
> \- carmen likes tacos. she tries to buy some.

Carmen sits completely still in Ivy’s bathroom, perched on a kitchen stool she bought in a while ago. The sunlight is rising above the San Diego skyline now, and the clock beside the mirror reads 6:34 AM. Her friend gently drags the electric clippers behind her ear, and the vibrations that reverberate through her skull help mute her thoughts.

“… how are you feelin’, Cahm?” Ivy asks. Carmen doesn’t say a word, gently scraping at her arms with her clipped nails. She knows they’re turning an agitated pink and red, but the scraping buzz doesn’t hurt anymore, now just something to do with her hands.

“Better” one word answers are manageable. Ivy hums thoughtfully, brushing hair away from her shoulder. The clippers pull away, and Carmen listens while she fiddles with the machine.

“I don’t know if I want to share what happened in the nightmare” she admits, as Ivy starts trimming the edges of her hair with a finer tool. She takes out the scissors and cleans up the top, which has managed to puff into a fluffy mess.

“You don’t have to. It must’ve been pretty upsettin’ ‘n awful” she murmurs, diligently cleaning her haircut with scissors and comb. She barely sounds curious, only selfless and gentle. Ivy always gives to everyone, her freedom, her normal life, her peace, her happiness. First it was for Zack, keeping him afloat in medical bills, name change, new clothing and keeping their racing career on the correct track (so to speak). Then it was Carmen, her chance at being a civilian and having a simple life gone and sacrificed just like her safety.

“It wasn’t a brainwashing nightmare” she says, and watches Ivy’s reflection nod.

“Not having one o’ those bastards is surprisin’ nowadays, to be fair” she responds politely and calmly, her boundless energy held back. Carmen notices it, how quiet and patient she’s acting, despite the tense atmosphere and what are sure to be boundless questions.

“It was worse” Carmen whispers, and Ivy stops her movement. Only for a few moments, before she starts sweeping the wavy and damp curls into a bun, giving access to the rough edge between the long and clipped hair. She carefully snips irregular strands and sighs.

“Do ya want to talk about it, Cahm? I’m not going to push if you say no, bro” she mumbles, right into her ear. Carmen suppresses her shiver and gasp, memories of her dream and the more… enjoyable moments drifting to the forefront of her mind.

“It was about Gray. I found his body dead, but you thought I did it and you got angry… and violent. You guys accused me of, yeah, and there was the loading dock… and I was in the water… yeah” she trails off, scratching at her arm again. She is not going to mention the part with her and Ivy in her bedroom even if Player held a gun to her head. Ivy sighs a second time and moves to face her, getting on one knee in front of her. Gently prying her nails from her forearm, she smiles softly at her and presses Carmen’s soft hands to her forehead. Carmen’s too old to feel butterflies or have her breath ‘stolen away’, but she can feel her heartrate pick up and her whole body buzz in anticipation. It dies away when a broken whimper pulls itself from Ivy’s throat.

“Cahmen. God. Fucken God” she chokes out, squeezing her hands tightly. She mumbles something else, maybe a religious prayer Carmen can’t recognise. Her chest feels like it’s being wrenched open, seeing Ivy so distraught and agonised.

“I can’t- Cahmen. I would never in my damn life hurt you. Do you hear me?! I am never going to hurt you. God. Fucken Christ” two sobs rip themselves out of her throat, and it’s what prompts Carmen to drag her onto her feet and wrap her into a hug. Ivy squeezes her so tightly it hurts to breath, trembling and crying into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ives. I-I I shouldn’t of come here” Carmen feels panic rising in her, hands shaking, vision blurring. She tries to extricate herself from the embrace, only to be pulled back by Ivy whining hoarsely. The redhead wraps her arm around Carmen’s neck and buries her nose into her collarbone. Carmen shifts, the loose hair on her shoulder intensely itching, and accidentally ends up shoved against the bathroom sink, Ivy’s muscular weight crushing the breath out of her. 

“Please don’t go. Please” she cries out, and Carmen can feel her tears running down her skin. “Please don’t leave again. Please just stay, stay with us, with me. I can’t watch you go again” Ivy whispers. Carmen’s eyes widen even further, and the panic in her body cools to a simmer. She’s _never_ heard Ivy beg. She’d faced even mortal danger and probable death with a stubborn attitude and fierce will, defiant to the end. Pleading is not an Ivy trait.

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m not leaving. Not anymore” she mumbles, gently moving Ivy’s head away from her neck. Her eyes are slightly red and puffy, drying tears surrounding them and running down her cheeks. She presses their foreheads together, closing her eyes. _It’s close enough_ she tells herself, relishing in the moments of emotional touch. Ivy chuckles, voice wet and choked with tears. They both pull away from each other slightly, to stare.

Carmen feels a pang of guilt that she never told Ivy how beautiful her eyes are. A sharp turquoise, flecked with a brilliant sky blue and a deep strong sea. They start to turn green around the pupil, and Carmen remembers Zack boasting that they both have central heterochromia. It’s even more amazing this close. The freckles that absolutely cover her face are slightly raised, and range from dark pink to brown. Her lips are chapped, and a white discoloured scar curves on the left of her bottom lip. She starts to tilt her head, too close and too lost to feel anything but the charged air. Ivy does the same, and Carmen can smell her breath, like last night’s toothpaste and soup. She runs her hands down her sides, just like the dream, and Ivy gasps-

“IVY!” Zack shouts from somewhere else in the house, and they jolt apart in shock. Ivy looks horrified, touching her lip. Disappointment and regret furrowing her eyebrows and contorting her face.

_No-_

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?!” she yells back, anger obvious. Angry at Carmen of course. She’d be pissed at anyone who woke her at 5 in the morning, demanded a haircut and then tried to kiss her.

“I’M GOING TO GO GET MILK” he screams. Ivy rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and avoiding Carmen’s gaze, flushing intensely. Carmen has to leave. She has to leave before she does anything else stupid and fucks up anything else worth having in her life. She starts shaking the cut hair off her shoulders and running her hands through her hair to move loose strands.

“IF YOU TWO DON’T SHUT THE FUCK UP I’M GOING TO STAB YOU WITH YOUR OWN STUPID FUCKEN CLAM CHOWDER. IT’S 7 IN THE MORNING ON A SATURDAY” Graham screeches in reply. There’s a thump and Zack’s shriek, before the heavy metal door slams loudly. Carmen’s already rushing out of the room in panic, scrubbing away her tears.

\---

When Ivy went to sleep last night, she was not prepared for the shitstorm of a morning. Especially not for Carmen. To be honest, it was very on brand for the thief to wake from a nightmare, require a haircut, make Ivy sob her guts out and beg for her to never leave again and then nearly kiss her.

Ivy curses to herself, slamming a bowl on the benchtop as she makes breakfast. She can’t rid her mind of the near kiss, of pressing Carmen’s body into the bathroom sink, the throbbing in her gut and the utter shock and fear on Carmen’s face when she realised what she was doing. She looked terrified and regretful, and that just tore Ivy in two. _This is exactly what you tried to avoid. You go ahead and let your selfish bullshit get in the way of your perfectly secure and liveable friendship and she leaves._

“Something’s pissing you off today” Zack murmurs, chugging a cup of sugar-filled tea and reading the news on his phone. “Is it 10,231 new confirmed cases in California? Or Cahmen totally vanishing this morning for an unnecessary shopping run and clearly avoiding you?” he asks, and she spins around and punches his arm hard enough that he cries out and clutches it.

“Shut up, Zack” she seethes, turning away as guilt bleeds into her heart, squeezing her throat shut.

“It’s the second one, I guess” Zack grumbles, rubbing the bruising limb. “Sorry for rubbing it in. I know how you feel a-”

“Zack. Please shut up” she whispers, clutching the benchtop and leaning against it. He goes silent, so quiet that the only sounds around her are cupboards being opened and the beeping of his phone. They both look up at the sound of clicking, steadily approaching. She hasn’t heard that sound since Suhara sprained his ankle, but lo and behold, Graham hobbles into the room on a pair of crutches. He’s changed a lot since the last time she saw his face. Silver is starting to creep into his hair from his temples, and a coarse beard sprouts from his chin. A red discolouring curves around and over his right eye, and it takes a moment for her to realise that it’s a scar, mottled but distinctively bolt-shaped. He wears a dark blue dress shirt with it’s sleeves rolled to the elbow and most of the buttons undone with a pair of black skin-tight underclothes that reach his knee.

“Good morning” he mumbles, slowly moving towards the coffee pot she’d introduced him to yesterday.

“Hi” Zack coughs, looking away and flushing. His chest is wrapped in bandages, more plasters smacked over his exposed limbs. The raw red marks, like a scripture on his skin, curves onto his left forearm in spirals and Zack _cannot take his damn eyes off it._

“Where’s Carmen?” Graham asks, looking through the fridge for something. Ivy realises it’s plain full-cream milk when he drags out the jug, stumbling to the huge coffee machine they never bother to use for anything other than squeezing out short black coffee for Carmen.

“She went shopping… but I think she had a fight with Ivy” Zack blurts. Ivy turns toward him, scowling and grunting out a violent threat.

“Oh?” Graham asks with curiosity, fiddling with the coffee machine until it screeches loudly and starts spewing steam. Zack yelps and asks how he broke it, but the far older man just laughs, his amber eyes twinkling. Apparently the promise of a warm coffee helps, as his skin starts to return it’s colour from before and a soft flush graces his olive skin.

“Mio ragazzo, I’m just frothing up my milk! Normal coffee stuff?” he chuckles. He doesn’t look at Ivy as he fills the metal jug with milk and starts to carefully froth it, but she knows he’s curious.

“What kind of fight?” he asks, amber eyes fixed on his task. She huffs, picking a stray red hair off the strap of her tank top and discreetly throwing it in the bin.

“It’s none of your business” she snaps, and he smirks with such smug certainty it puts her on edge.

“Did the fight involve Carmen’s hair being cut, or did your yelling coinciding with her leaving?” he asks. She blushes deeply as Zack gasps dramatically. They all go silent, and Ivy can’t hear her painful cacophony of thoughts over the pulsing of the coffee machine, screech of steam and blood pounding in her ears.

“How did you know?” she asks, dead serious as she clutches her bowl of Gay cheerio’s in her hands like an anchor to reality

“I can see tiny bits of it on your arms and shoulders. I thought it was yours first, but it’s too dark red and clipped super short. Did she get an undercut?” he asks, and she knows that he’s relishing in the exposure of her secret. It fills her with the bubbling rage, the one she’s been shoving into a corner all morning.

“Fuck you” she snaps. He doesn’t look fazed in the slightest, silently making his breakfast. Zack vanishes from the room, clearly uncomfortable and terrified of the tense energy in the room. It probably reminds him of days at home, when they were only teenagers. When he would hide in her room, picking out names under the guise of sibling bonding, always aware of their parents just outside, listening always.

“I’m sorry. For being rude to you” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around her body and staring into the kitchen sink. He hums thoughtfully, nearly dropping his cup as he tries to sit down at the dining table. She catches the mug as it starts to tilt over in his hands, carrying his bowl of cereal to the table a few seconds later. He nods, offering her a seat across from him. She warily sits down, scratching at the edge of the table with her blistered and calloused hands.

“I don’t take it to heart. You’re probably feeling pretty awful” he murmurs, sipping on his coffee. “Like it’s your fault, and if you had just done better or been better, she’d still be around” he says wistfully, swirling the cup around. Ivy watches the liquid catch the froth, mixing it into the caramel coloured mixture.

“I know what it’s like. Feeling that blame” he consoles, wiping froth off his moustache with the back of a trembling hand. He leans a tiny bit closer, a solemn and warning look in his eyes. They don’t twinkle with that dormant mischief or genius, with a grief and regret that sets her skin on edge, dread coiling in her gut.

“Carmen has this problem. I think she always did, before I even met her” he murmurs, face dead serious. Ivy didn’t notice it before, but his right eye has an unusual white patch on it’s lower half, and she realises with a start that he must be completely blind in the one eye.

“She never really knew what she wanted. Sure, she wanted to be a thief, but only because VILE told her, through observational learning, that thieving was admirable and cool. Then she left the island, and everyone she’d ever known, and she was basically lost and alone. So she turned to the only thing she knew, crime. Admittedly with different morals and reasons, but it was what she was good at it. Dissolving VILE and protecting cultural artefacts became her one purpose, her life goal” he tells her. Her eyes are wide as saucers and she knows it, but his understanding is… uncanny. An analysis of one of his best friends. It’s a VILE teaching, one of the unofficial social conventions Carmen often explained, guiltily met with horror and sympathy.

_Understand and analyse the motives, feelings and character of your comrades as you do your enemies._

“So now VILE is gone, the scraps of resistance mopped up by ACME. And Carmen doesn’t know what to do with her life. She’s lost her big bad, her enemy, the catalyst of her awful life. Carmen never lived a civilian life, not like you and I before this” he explains, and she quietly hits her knuckles together under the table, brushing each time with a muffled clunk.

“Carmen is lost, and she feels awful. I know what happened to you guys while she was under Bellum’s control, and I know it means nothing, but I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t stop her sooner” he apologises, wrapping a weather and scarred hand around Ivy’s smaller fist and squeezing. She rubs tears out of her eyes, grimacing.

“She needs her friends and family more than ever, to reassure her that she is loved, that what she wants matters. She threw away all her happiness and peace for other people, that’s just what she does. Too selfless for her own good, sometimes, she’ll let herself burn before anyone else has to suffer. She needs someone with her, to tell her that she is good enough. Be that person, Ivy. Be her anchor, the person she can go to. Carmen loves you and trusts you, you just-” he asks, almost out of breath with the confession.

“Shut the hell up, Graham. Carmen doesn’t want me that way, not the way I want her” she whispers, resting her head on her arms. They sit in silence, until he pulls himself out of the chair with a strained groan and returns his dishes to the sink.

“Just think over what I said. Please” he asks quietly, hobbling back towards his room while humming a sad tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Graham and Carmen have a fight and argument about their trauma and then start to repair. And Carmivy may or may not become Friends With Benefits.
> 
> I can't cram all of Graham's damage from electrocution into the story so here's a list:  
> \- restricted movement after the severe contraction of his cells and muscles, which months later haven't slackened too much.  
> \- deterioration of eyesight.  
> \- awful lesions on his arms, legs and abdomen, mostly removed. the blistering around his chest was emptied of fluid.  
> \- mottled red scaring around his right eye.  
> \- necrosis around his chest (dead flesh now surgically removed).  
> \- reduced stamina and chronic fatigue from minor chores.  
> \- the damage to his lungs and heart from necrosis and surgery means his lungs and heart are slightly smaller, so he can't hold his breath for as long or do any exercise anymore.  
> \- nerve damage mean he can't feel touch or hear as easily. his hands shake a lot because the stuttering of his nerve signals.  
> These are all real symptoms of electrocution, with artistic license (given the unique and unusual nature of the weapon). He will never fully recover, but he is healing. This isn't a magic-get-better-with-patience and time fanfic.


	4. I'll spill this blood for you (just tell me how many burdens left)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Nazi mention, stimming mention (idk if that's trigger warning worthy or not but I shan't take chances), fighting, injury detail
> 
> HA. So Carmen has issues. Yeah so Idk if y'all ever saw She-Ra but she's very similar to Adora in that. I also basically lifted lines from the show into parts of this.
> 
> Title from Pray For Me by The Weeknd and Kendrick Lamar. The whole Black Panther album is so beautiful I highly recommend you go listen to it rn!
> 
> So you know when teachers talk about "the difficult child" at school... yeah that was Ivy... and Zack was the one who absorbs books at an inhuman pace. Ivy is a very very *very* smart girl, but didn't apply that knowledge to the school work that never challenged her. Sound familiar? Yeah, cause in this story Ivy and Zack are neuro-divergent. She's autistic and he has ADHD/Dyslexia. Honestly I expect people to question me about my headcanons and I'm happy to chat about my interpretations about any characters! Just don't be rude. I would *love* to discuss my Trans and Neuro-Divergent Zack headcanon's with people, and his childhood life with Ivy!
> 
> OK HOL UP. I CHECKED THE AVERAGE JUNE WEATHER IN SAN DIEGO. AND 24c????? UM. OK. That can't be right... 24 for me is like... take a jacket with you weather... damn. Well I'm going to ignore that and make it a very hot day in San Diego, California. Like... at least 34c. They'll be fine.
> 
> lmao I'm taller than Ivy by around an inch. idk I'm not a Yankee. AND I'm taller than Julia, El Topo, Bellum and Paper Star. Americans and the British are so damn tiny why the fu- JUST EAT SOMETHING OTHER THAN BOILED UNSEASONED POTATOES AND BAKED BEANS GUYS UR SO TINY PLS0 /j

Zack and Ivy have to go to work nowadays. In their suits and glasses and ACME issue masks. They’re currently cracking down on a group that’s been selling genuine Nazi memorabilia and artefacts to far-right extremist groups and anyone willing to pay. It’s miserable and exhausting work, and the silence when they return with red-rimmed eyes and forlorn expressions is crushing.

“See you guys in a few days. Stay safe” Zack murmurs, pushing his hair back into it’s neatened style.

“Bye. Take care” Carmen mumbles, avoiding the scrutiny of her teammates by staring into her cup of short black. They aren’t her teammates anymore, she corrects, swallowing back a choked noise of pain. Barely family, either. She’s only welcome back here because Suhara’s insistence. She wanted to stay away, far from her remnant feelings and tether. But then he got his mother involved, asking her if Carmen could see her friends again after 3 years. And it was a roll downhill from there.

And now she’s here. And she knows she’s not welcome.

Ivy’s been avoiding her for over a day now, body language fearful and guarded. Carmen notices her stimming more often, and trying to hide it badly. She leaves, the discomfort killing her every time, tears pushing at her eyelids. Zack flinches when she silently brushes past him, and they were all woken by his strangled scream last night, thinking he’d fallen from a great height. Graham spends his days sleeping, or trailing behind Ivy in the workshop and admiring the cars, laughing and joking as they modify her gadgets and inventions together. Player keeps in touch, conversation delicate. There’s no banter or friendly teasing. It’s too clinical and formal.

Suhara sends her disapproving stares. He knows that she’s constantly avoiding them, hiding at the waterfront docks with her 3 cups of coffee a day. Checking every boat that passes through, cataloguing everyone in the harbour around their home.

What else is she meant to say? Apologetic silence is a slow killer, but she can’t think of anything sincere that they’d even want to hear. Sorry for trying to kill you. Sorry for thinking you were a traitor. Sorry for abandoning you. Sorry for betraying you. She stands up abruptly, running her hands through her clipped hair and grabbing her wallet and phone, shoving them into her jeans pocket.

“Carmen. We need to talk” Graham calls out from across the room. He’s leaning against the hallway doorframe, crutches abandoned. His legs tremble, and she can see his black and red stitches and deformed wounds through his white shirt (she recognises it from his VILE days, his sleepwear. More comfortable than the coarse white linen and wicking materials. It has a picture of an old man in front of microphones, and the words “God Save The Queen. Because nothing will save the Governor-General” she asked what is was, and he regaled her with tales of indigenous land, corruption and bettering lives. It felt like a forbidden conversation, at VILE. It still does now)

“I’m going out” she says, and he stumbles forward, standing between her and the door. His strength is coming back, and she can’t get past him without injuring him. She narrows her eyes at him, shifting her leg into a fighting stance.

“Listen here, kiddo. I’m not getting dragged to California in a fucking plague, away from my home and life, just for you to avoid me and everyone else here!” he snaps, and she steps back, drawing her hands towards herself.

“What home and life? I thought it was destroyed, that you were a unemployed and alone” she sneers, hurrying around the couch. He follows her, muscles flexing hard, and cries out, stopping and clutching the left of his abdomen. She knows he can’t move further without agitating his stitches, and ignores the guilty acid crawling into her throat and lungs to take advantage.

“Don’t try to stop me. You’ll only hurt yourself. It isn’t worth it” she says sternly, sidestepping him as he breathes deeply, gasping through the pain.

“What, like you aren’t hurting yourself either? Like trying to fucking _help_ you isn’t worth it?” he wheezes. She turns and points at him accusingly, rage bubbling in her chest.

“I’m not hurting myself. I’m staying away for your own good” she defends. The lies taste like ash in her mouth, flavourless and suffocating. His answering laugh is dry and bitter, amber eyes blazing with dormant anger.

“You don’t get to decide what is and isn’t ‘for our own good’, Carm! And of course what you want is worth it! How can you believe otherwise? Do you really think that low of yourself?” he asks her, the bluntness bruising her heart. Every time Player raised something like this, it was with gentle words and consoling. Suhara used the tools of insinuation and stability, the most quiet and loyal venting partner she’s ever met. But Gray is blunt, like being hit with a semi-trailer. Tearing open her canopy of deceit and masks to reveal the raw, broken child underneath. It’s brutally effective, and anger blooms in her heart.

“My responsibility is my family and friends. If my burden to make them happy is to stay far away, then it’s one I have to carry. I can live with a little isolation, Graham” she spits out, and he twitches, eyes wide with shock.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! ‘Burden to carry’, ‘Responsibility’? I can’t fucken tell if you have some kind of twisted hero complex or if you’re really that just miserably self-sacrificial” he snarls. “Here’s a fact, Carmen. Your friends don’t want you gone from their life. They _love_ you, Carmen. They would do anything for you, and you vanishing every day ‘for their own good’ is killing them. But you’re just a coward, aren’t you?” he snarls. She stops, just beside the couch. He’s not exactly wrong. Especially not with Ivy (her mistake, her selfish feelings, her regret). Staying away hurts, but there’s a safety in the isolation. No one gets close enough to betray her and vice versa.

“You’re staying away because you’re scare, aren’t you? Of loss, of betrayal, of pain. It’s a defence mechanism, hastily throwing up walls and armour and keeping everyone at arms length. Trust me, Carmen. It doesn’t work. I did that for so many years of my life, being aloof and heartless. Please, just let us in. Talk to us” he continues, voice hoarse and cracked with pain. She cant see him, but she can hear his gasping for breath, heavy and wet. He whimpers and cries out in agony, shocking her out of her spiraling thoughts. She guides him to an armchair, one that he collapses into.

“Nothing’s torn, but I could feel one on my gut leaking. I just need a lie down” he assures, but she ignores him to grab the first aid kit from beneath the TV. She unbuttons his shirt and wipes away the slightly leaking fluid and blood, a handful of tears leaking from her eyes and dripping onto the floor.

It’s hideous.

There are stitches everywhere, places she knows the patches of necrosis and cellular decay were removed. The red coils of scarring, slightly raised, crest away from the centre of destruction. The blisters have fallen off, leaving patches of shiny red. His muscles are so thin, so _so_ thin he looks starved. Logically, she knows it’s because of disuse and how much energy his body is using for healing, but she puts ‘larger meal portions’ on her mental chores list.

“They didn’t actually cut away the dead flesh, if you’re wondering. They used farmed maggots, then they stitched in skin grafts” he says, and she turns away and chokes out a gagging sob. His eyes go wide, face burning from an embarrassed flush. “That was the most moronically fuckwit thing I could have said. I’m sorry” he corrects, wincing when she starts wrapping it in clean bandages.

“Be careful. Stay here. I’ll bring medication and water” she says quietly, deadening her tone. She steps up to walk away, handing the TV remote to Gray.

“Why are you like this, Carmen?” he asks, and she slows to a stop, resting a hand on the back of the couch to ground herself.

“What?” she whispers, scrubbing tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Why do you sacrifice everything for everyone else? Why do you always pick everything except for you and your happiness?” he asks her. Carmen’s mind races, searching and searching for an answer. It feels like trying to find a sleep of paper in a trash heap, throwing around things in desperation. She just sighs and closes her eyes, trying to numb out her crisis of thoughts.

“I don’t know” she mumbles, walking out of the living room to leave him there alone.

\---

“You should probably treat your blazer better, sis” Zack points out, eyeing the crumpled fabric tried around her hips by the sleeves. The drive home is exhausting, and they have shifts to keep awake. It’s dark outside, a having cool change rolled over the city a few hours ago.

“I can iron it or whatever. It’s been a real challenge of a day” she groans. The hot weather was awful, reaching higher than 93 at times. And getting involved in a _gun fight_ in a _suit_ while _outside_ doesn’t make anything about the day more pleasant. Confiscating dozens of Nazi mementos, medals, dairies and posters from a 25 year old childcare worker might just be the 7th most horrific and traumatising moment in her life so far. She has a list.

They pull into the harbour now, Lydia’s customised engine purring under the hood like a predatory creature. Ivy watches the street lights vanish above her, their yellow beams passing over the two of them like molten gold. She taps her pointer fingers against the plastic of the door, listening to the muffled thunk and ignoring the slight ache.

“We’re home” Zack says quietly, when they pull into the loading bay. It’s sensor lights click on, blindingly white. Ivy buries her face into her elbow, sleep tugging at all her bones. The engine dies, but Zack makes no move to open his door, pulling out his phone and playing around with it. Ivy breathes in a very deep inhale that reeks of sweat and smoke, head pounding. The last slivers of light dim, the sensor lights turning off. Zack sighs and clicks his phone off, sitting in darkness.

“How are you doing, bro” he asks, voice soft and flat.

“I hate Nazis and I want to go to fucking bed” she grumbles. His chuckle’s weak, a snuffling noise and groaning louder than his laughter.

“I can second that. Gimme a moment” he opens the car door, Lydia’s entire frame rocking as he steps out. He manually turns off the lights, walking across the room and flicking on a warm lamp. After the click she crawls out of the car and slowly shuts the car door, smiling at Zack. His selfless tolerance, patience and caring used to jar her as a kid. In a cruel world and home like theirs, she was so confused and upset by his sincerity. What was the point, when it never rewarded him with anything better? It was over bitter and weak McDonald’s coffee, 16 years old and angry with her life, that he’d told her. _I feel like if I’m nice and sincere and give kindness, people won’t have such a fucking mess of a life like mine. Stopping the cycle of abuse, sorta._

“Thank you” she sighs. He nods warmly, smiling in the way that makes his eyes crinkle, lopsided dimples and softened features. She called it the Bambi Smile years ago, and the name stuck even a decade later.

_Well that makes her feel old…_

“I love you, bro” she huffs, holding out her arms. He makes a soft noise of happiness and wraps her into the embrace. His suit rubs against her bare forearms and it’s irritating, but she shifts her arms and squeezes around his shoulders.

“I’m going to head to my bed, Ivy. See you tomorrow” he says, climbing up the metal stairs softly and into the warehouse, each footstep a dull thunk. She stands there in that loading bay, looking through the high windows at the moonlight. The San Diego skyline glows too, and lthough she can’t see any buildings, it’s ambient light lights up the sky nonetheless. She stands there, processing and relaxing in the blissful quiet and glow, finally deciding to head to bed for a good, long sleep. She starts undoing the buttons on her white dress shirt, hanging her glasses on her tank top.

“Hey Ives” someone hums from the couch. She turns abruptly, blush gracing her cheeks, and comes face to face with Carmen. Reading a bright red and well-loved book, nursing a glass of white wine and a slice of peanut butter on toast.

“Cahm! Hi… didn’t uh, see you… on the couch, y’know, where you’re readin’ a book” she mumbles, shaking out her arms. Carmen’s curled her legs beneath her, dressed in Ivy’s stolen Ford hoodie and a pair of boxers. Her hair’s lost gravity and length means it sits in a fluffy mess, hanging down on the left side of her face. She smiles at Ivy, eyes twinkling and face warm. The light flush on her cheekbones stands out, and it makes Ivy’s skin buzz with spreading heat.

“It’s good to see you again, Ivy. I missed you” she hums, and Ivy knows the drink has been influencing her brain. She’s too happy and secure right now, the dopamine rush intoxicating. It’s unsafe territory, even more so than usual.

“Cahm, it’s nearly 2am. You should really go to bed” she implores, slowly redoing her shirt buttons, fiddling with the top one anxiously.

“Ok” Carmen sighs, getting up with a muted groan and stretching her arms upwards. Ivy’s gaze darts to the slab of muscle that sits over her abdomen, and swallows back a lump of warm acid. Her stolen hoodie falls back over her gut and Ivy tears her eyes away, crimson flush gracing her ears.

“Can I talk to you? Privately?” Carmen asks quietly, glancing around the room. Her eyes betray her anxiety and uncertainty, and she must be either far less or far more sober than Ivy predicted.

“Me?” Ivy points at herself in confusion. Carmen stifles her laugh, staring at her with an admiring expression. Carmen makes that face a lot, at many people, but there’s something charged in this, too cynical and wanting. It makes her belly flutter, light and hopeful.

“Come on, Ives” she smiles, grabbing her hand and dragging her into her room down the hall. Her breath stutters in her throat, but she can ignore it when Carmen turns around and giggles at her, silver eyes twinkling in the lamp light. She follows like a faithful disciple, unable to hold back the joyous twitch of her lips. This casual intimacy was so dear to her. Having it back, this easiness and relaxing friendliness, it’s relieving. The door clicks shut behind them, and Carmen lets go of her hands, walking across the room. She throws her hoodie off, her room significantly warmer than the air-conditioned living room, and graces Ivy with a flash of her soft abdomen (again) and her toned biceps. She walks back over to Ivy, but stops a few meters away, arms frozen in their stretch outwards for a hug. She pulls them back and avoids eye contact, just slightly.

“I’m sorry, Ives. I shouldn’t have avoided you. I was being dishonest” she blurts. Ivy freezes, panicked energy and anxiety bubbling up in her throat.

“Cahm…” she whispers, voice cracked and dry as a desert. The other woman squeezes her eyes closed, arms trembling.

“I know you don’t want me. Not… that way. Not the way I want. And that’s okay. And I’m sorry. I let my dumb desires get in the way” she continues, shrinking into herself. She turns to the side, staring across the room where the floor and wall intersect. Ivy feels hope bloom in her chest, but it’s soon drowned out by realisation.

Want. Desire.

Not love, or feelings.

“And I have been avoiding you, because I thought you were angry and didn’t want anything to do with me. But that was wrong of me. Graham told me I should be honest, about myself and what I want. So I’m trying. I hope you-” she cuts off herself with a thick swallow, tears leaking from her eyes. It hurts. Carmen doesn’t love her, and even if she did, she would have said so in this sudden tirade of admittance. Ivy knows that she’s absolutely reeling, shock and painful dread tugging at her body and mind from every angle. She steps back and sinks into her desk chair, breathing heavily. She’s teetering on a dozen edges at once, and it makes her feel nauseous and confronted. Raw and stripped of her armour.

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship. My selfishness. I’d rather my friend back then keep pushing her away. Please, Ives. Please don’t be angry” Carmen pleads, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She starts to scratch at her own arms again, and Ivy sighs deeply, scrubbing at her tired eyes. Emotional conversations are so draining, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can stay awake.

“Can I just have a few minutes, Cahm? Jus’ to process? I’m not leaving, don’t worry” she asks quietly, staring at Carmen. The other woman nods gently, lowering herself onto a sitting position. She rests her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor as tears stain her cheeks.

Ivy thinks. Carmen isn’t saying she’s in love with her, just that she wants her. To be with her, maybe to experiment or for sex. She has dated many a girl for those reasons, and when they said they loved her, she pushed them away. Love was betrayal, and weakness, and tethering. Love made her vulnerable, and soft. Raising a trans brother and being a neuro-divergent and broke woman in Southie with no close family doesn’t lend itself to weakness, or vulnerability. You need to be strong, and stubborn, and stoic.

Now she knows how those girls felt. It’s an _awful_ idea, even by Ivy standards. Dating someone who doesn’t love you but you adore them. Being involved with someone you are already head over heels for. But Ivy’s sick of loneliness, of moping, is worse than this. Maybe, this can work. Maybe, she can tamp down her secret inner sap. For Carmen. For what she wants.

“Do you want me to go?” Carmen whispers, poised to rise and flee the room. Her eyes are red-rimmed and terrified, arms trembling. Ivy jolts and smiles, going for reassuring and safe. It might or might not work, because Carmen’s brow furrows and her mouth curls into that adorable little curve… nope. Not now.

“No. I- I have something to ask” she chokes out, whole body buzzing with nerves. Her feet feel like they don’t touch the floor, her whole mind and soul disconnecting from her body. She stands slowly on wobbly legs, reaching out to take Carmen’s hand and help her to her feet.

“Oh” Carmen whispers eloquently, face close enough to Ivy’s that she struggles to hold her gaze. Ivy puts a hand on her shoulder and lifts the other to Carmen’s cheek. It shakes, tapping her flesh a few times before she puts it solidly on the flesh.

“Can I kiss you?” she mumbles, face blazing hot and cold. It’s so risky. The aftermath, the stakes, the stupidity. It’s just as intoxicating as the smell of wine (and less romantically, peanut butter) on her breath, and Ivy is sucked into Carmen’s orbit. The fear and rush of adrenaline boils in her gut, her breaths low and deep.

“Yes” Carmen breathes out. Ivy leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. She can taste the wine, the spice of her dinner, the smell of Carmen that soaks into her sheets and many of Ivy’s clothes now. Driving her to that precipice of insanity, of losing herself in the moment. Carmen doesn’t have the best of experience in this field, but Ivy is _more_ than happy to lead, letting Carmen explore with slow, soft kisses. Also, the bed right behind them is a very enticing and lovely bed. She kind of wants to move the kissing there.

“I thought you were mad, when we nearly kissed. You looked so angry” Carmen whispers, arms wrapped around Ivy’s shoulders and her hands drifting into her hair cautiously. Ivy growls out a warning before surging forward for a deep kiss, her reply a stuttered moan of surprise.

“We- are- both- absolutely- moronic” she groans while kissing her between each word, and Carmen huffs out a quiet laugh. “I was angry because Zack ruined the whole thing with his milk cravings” she snorts, and moments later they’re breaking out into full blown laughter, interrupted with kisses to cheeks and any part of their face they can reach. Ivy picks her up, ignoring Carmen’s squeaking and giggling, drops her onto the pillows and straddles her hips carefully. She smiles down at her, and Carmen reaches up one hand and pokes her cheek, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Dimples” she whispers, breaking out into loud, wild laughter. Ivy tries to shush her, glancing at the door in fear, unable to stifle the grin on her face.

“Shhhhhhhhh, dumbass, everyone ‘ll know what’s happenin’ if you don’t shuddup!” she whispers frantically. It does nothing to silence Carmen, sailing on a dopamine high and giggling and gasping with heaving laughs. Ivy caresses her face with both hands, gazing down at the breathless Carmen.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. Carmen goes very quiet, gazing at her silently. The yellow lamplight twinkling in her eyes, ones sparkling with tears and the creases around them softened.

“You can kiss me whenever you want, Ives” she murmurs, biting her lip discreetly. Ivy moans aloud, blushing in shame, and kisses Carmen, feeling the warm chuckles through her shirt. The kiss is filthy and indecent, messy and breathless, but it’s absolutely perfect and wonderful. She pulls away, overwhelmed and exhausted. Carmen’s answering whine of longing does _things_ to her she is never going to admit to anyone.

“Cahm… I really need to sleep. And it’s a bit much right now” she mumbles, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Carmen chases her lips for a moment longer but stops when Ivy moves away slowly, studying her face.

“Sorry. Just tell me whenever you need a break. This is all really intense, I know” she whispers, pressing her lips against Ivy’s temple and leaving it there, wrapping the girl into her arms. Ivy hums against her collarbone, inhaling that Carmen smell. She’s swimming in it, sensing it on the bedsheets and Carmen and her clothes. She strips off her dress shirt, leather shoes and suit pants, throwing them across the room in a random corner.

“That’s no way to treat you’re A.C.M.E. uniform, Ives” Carmen scolds, rubbing her strong and muscled hands down Ivy’s bare forearms. She grins at Carmen, throwing off her tank top and sports bra (relishing in Carmen’s deep flush of dark brown across her whole face) and tearing on a Captain Marvel shirt.

“What uniform?” she crawls back into the bed, scooping Carmen into her arms. They lie down sideways, Carmen pressing her back to Ivy’s front and tangling her legs with one of Ivy’s. An unbreakable grip on her heart.

“I like the way you think” Carmen whispers against her wrist, dragging her hands along her forearm in. Ivy feels herself slip into unconsciousness, lips pressed to the back of Carmen’s head, short strands of hair tickling her nose gently. And it’s bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivy is a service top and Carmen is a power bottom it makes so much sense.
> 
> Ivy, age 11, to her mathematics teacher: I'm not memorising the multiplication table. I have a calculator, and my ass is fat.  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CKKo_bcnQ-y/?igshid=vej9hwu04he2
> 
> Carmen: I just realised something. I had a bad childhood.  
> Zack: yeeeaaah I know.  
> Carmen: what do you mean you know?  
> Zack: look at you  
> Carmen: what do you mean look at me?  
> Zack: look at how you stand *points at clearly paranoid Carmen* people who had good childhoods don't stand like that  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CK2Cw6wnrJJ/?igshid=1kup5kvzfzh89
> 
> pls my aircon broke in the last moments of writing this and it's a hot enough night I was sweating in my room so I had to get my parents to fix it and lost like a solid half hour of writing time LMAO


	5. I don't wanna be something you can throw away ('cause I'm a little bit tired of fearing that I'll be the bad fruit nobody buys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO as you probably knows, this story is set in 2020 (destructive events included). This chapter has heaps of mention of awful stuff happening around June 2020.
> 
> Here's an important note for this story. Some of these characters hold political opinions wildly different to my own. Some of them say things I do not believe. Some of these beliefs I actively condemn and despise. If something a character mentions upsets you, then you can talk to me and I can explain my choices.
> 
> TW // violence mention, death mention, gunshots, Nazi mention, torture mention, self-deprecating thoughts, panic attack, passing out and struggling to breath because of the panic attack
> 
> I procrastinated school work by doing this heehee. Also our state went into a 5 day stage 4 lockdown after COVID cases were reported at an airport café. It's over now but I got so much writing done in that time.
> 
> The title is from Throwaway by Clairo and Scar by Missy Higgins.

_acme zoom meetings are a human rights violation and a hate crime_

_Not a hate crime, Ivy._

_well i hate them_

Ivy taps away on her phone screen without looking up, discreetly messaging Julia as she attentively listens to Agent Collins discuss his report and suggestions after his bust of a drug smuggling operation based out of Bolivia and Mexico, involving stolen and fabricated religious artefacts being used as mules.

"A powerful cartel in the country recently devised a recipe for cocaine in liquid form instead of powder, and has been disguising it as energy drinks and holy water to smuggle it into places like Florida and Texas. Zari and I interrogated a chemist working at the energy drink factory when-" Ivy’s phone buzzes, and she clicks it again, eyes flitting downward as she reads it.

_Zack told me that Ms Sandiego and Mr Calloway are living in your home again. Is this true?_

Ivy’s mind races back to that night, their first true kiss, and the morning after. Blissful, the only word to describe it. Waking up with Carmen’s face buried into her neck, the taller girl pressing soft kisses to her skin. Making breakfast together and dancing along to Clairo while laughing and teasing like they always do. The deep kiss next to the kitchen sink, that prompted her brother’s surprised screaming. Zack’s lecture as soon as Carmen left the room to shower.

 _"_ _Ivy. You need to stop having sex with people who are in love you_ _"_ _he deadpanned, as Graham choked on his coffee and started coughing intensely. She flushed an intense and painfully strong scarlet and hissed out a warning, eyes flitting to the bathroom door where Carmen was bathing._

 _"_ _We didn’t have sex and she’s not in love with me, you moronic egg_ _"_ _she snapped, waving a spatula at him aggressively. Zack stared her down with a disappointed and tired expression, hands clasped together in front of him. She slid a plate of egg and plain beef sausages, relishing in the screech of porcelain on wood and his furrowed eyebrows. “And anyway, that was only 2 times befo-”_

 _"_ _You have pushed away a girl you were hooking up with at least 6 times in your life when she admitted she was in love with you. Don’t act stupid, Ivy_ _"_ _he interrupted, tone scathing. She gestured vaguely at Graham and Suhara in the living room, who were feigning disinterest in the conversation._

 _"_ _Audience?!_ _"_ _she whispered very loudly, pointing the spatula at his nose and narrowing her gaze at him._

 _"_ _This is the most pathetic mutual pining I’ve ever seen_ _"_ _he’d whined, glaring at her harshly. His insistence of returned feelings never swayed her to believe so, and it’s not going to do so now. Even after things have changed._

She pushes the bitter memory down, swallowing the burn in her throat and lungs away. It’s time to focus. Work time isn’t for reminiscing, having a gay crisis or fantasies. She traces the letter on her phone with it’s tiny stylus, and they appear as letters the moment it lifts from the screen. Gotta love Player’s resourcefulness and wealth.

_yeah theyre living here with us. grahams house got burnt down this year and shadowsan decided were all too depressed and miserable split apart so he got carmen and graham to live with us and discuss trauma or somethin idk_

_That’s awful, his house being destroyed. How is he faring?_

_better. at least he can walk without crutches now for at least 16 min_

_Focus._

Ivy’s gaze snaps up to the meeting, glad her hand gave the illusion of note taking when she was texting Julia instead of listening.

"Agent Finnigan. You and your brother have been operating in the United States for the last week, investigating and dissolving a smuggling group selling Nazi era memorabilia and artefacts to extremist groups and dangerous individuals. Have you any information on possible ring leaders?" Chief asks. Ivy clears her throat, reaching for a manila folder and opening it. She flicks through several pages of paper, tracing the correct intelligence with her finger and stifling her sigh of resignation.

"Several people working in lower rings of thah group say they believe a ‘lieutenant’ in their ranks who goes by the name Löwenjäger is in charge of replicah poster an‘ banner distribution. One member, a truck driver from Wyoming, told me that 'e has long dark brown hair, green eyes, a long beard, wears a black woolen coat, has a burn scar on his cheek and is from Louisiana" she tells the group. Julia furrows her brow, leaning back in her chair and shoving her glasses back onto her nose

"Lion Hunter? Not the most original or creative name. I don’t think this man was German, in that case" she hums, furrowing her brow and staring into space. Ivy watches her with curious interest, eyes flitting as she pieces together a map of connections and clues in her mind. There are footsteps from the staircase and her gaze flits upward, locking onto the figure slowly descend the wooden stairs. It’s Graham, both hands gripping the rail, headphones over his ears, dressed in a black sport top with a collar, unbuttoned blue dress-shirt and pants. She carefully watches him, listening to Zack and Julia discuss Löwenjäger and his possible origins. He’s luckily still out of frame, slowly and carefully walking towards the kitchen. She can see how the indented hole in his chest shows through the fabric and turns her attention back to the screen, swallowing down the feeling of nausea. Unfortunately, losing an eye tends to affect spacial awareness and distance perception, as Graham spins around carelessly close to the marble benchtop. She winces at the loud thump of his wrist striking the sharp edge of the surface, shooting an apologetic glance his way.

"Motherfu- stupid bloody bench!" he snarls, cradling his wrist to his chest and leaning against it as he wheezes in pain. Chief abruptly closes her mouth and shoots her screen a very pointed look. The whole team goes quiet, and Ivy pales under their gaze, heart racing with panic and fear.

"Agent Finnigan. If that is who I think it is, you have much explaining to do" Chief says quietly, fixing her with a cold and stern stare. She continues to watch Graham, who fishes an iceberg lettuce out of the fridge while muttering angrily. She smiles weakly at the camera and breathes deeply.

"Graham Calloway 'as been living in our home for several days now... and so was Cahmen Sandiego and the man you know as Shadowsan. Not everyone has been dealin‘ with their trauma well these last three years, and Mr Calloway’s home was destroyed by a fire, so he’s stayin‘ with us until his house is rebuilt. He’s in the kitchen getting... breakfast" she trails off when she watches him wash the iceberg lettuce in the sink and tear chunks off, eating them with annoyance and exhaustion.

"He’s given no indication that he can even heah me" she adds, as he continues to ignore her. He finally notices her after a few minutes, waving with one hand. He shuffles over to her table, picking up the photocopy of the sketch their artists had devised. He stares at the man carefully, holding it out of Ivy’s reach when she tries to snatch it from him.

"Oh hey. It’s Bronson!" he says, waving the paper around and getting water from the lettuce all over the sketch and Ivy. She snatches it from him and raises an eyebrow, flicking water out of her hair.

"What did you say?" Chief asks, scarily calm and serious. Julia watches with morbid fascination as Graham gestures at the paper while finishing his mouthful of lettuce.

"He was an instructor at VILE academy. The Faculty weren’t the only staff there, there were other teachers and tutors to help students specialise in fields. Anyone identified as having unique skills that could be refined, stuff like explosives, smuggling or forgery, often were assigned an older or retired operative as a mentor. Bronson specialised in smuggling organisation. He taught everyone basic smuggling and hiding of items, but I know at least a few folk got extracurricular training. After all, something stolen isn’t worth a thing unless you can get it somewhere to sell it or get it back to the Island. Last I heard he died in a car accident that may have been organised by VILE, but apparently not. He’s one psychopathic bastard, super into torturing folk with fire and heated metal, apparently. Also friends with some important blokes in the US government" he lists off, apparently having not registered who the people in the meeting are. Maybe because he probably can’t see them, his good eye angled exclusively at the paper.

"Mr Calloway?!" he jolts and turned to the computer, squinting aggressively. Devineaux stares at his screen, jaw slack in shock. _Oh god please no_ Ivy thinks, wringing her hands and shaking them out under the tabletop.

"Ah, you’re that French bloke? Good to-" he’s interrupted by the loud sounds of gunshots, as Devineaux whips his head towards his living room window. He runs towards it and slams his blinds shut and turns off his microphone. A few seconds later a message about riots and background noise appears in their message chat. Chief dismisses it with a tired huff and turns back to Graham, regarding him carefully. His expression is that of a dog after someone pretends to throw the ball. Confusion, shock and apprehension all painted on his face.

"Would you be willing to supply ACME with information about VILE operatives, Mr Calloway?" Chief asks. He turns to the head of ACME and grins, the look so undeniably malicious and excited that Ivy scoots away from him in slight fear.

"Absolutely. They ruined my life and those of my friends, so I would be happy to watch them pay for their crimes" he answers, a vengeful spark of flame roaring in his amber eyes. He moves away from the screen and onto the couch, pulling out his phone and tapping away at the screen.

The meeting continues with a steady sense of unease and trepidation, and Julia stops sending her messages.

\---

“Good morning Cahm!” Zack greets as she walks into the room, towelling off her hair with a small handtowel. The haircut is lighter and thinner than anything she’s remembered having, and it’s always hard to resist running her hands down the shaved sides of her head. Ivy winks at her from the couch as she hides her flush under her towel.

It’s a rather overcast day, especially for the San Diego harbour, but it’s warm and humid and absolutely perfect. Mugs line the benchtop as Zack pours tea into all of them, adding everyone’s preferred amount of sugar from memory with care and precision. Ivy’s watching a foreign news program with Graham, as he explains a story about a conservative politician and a boy smashing an egg on his scalp. They both burst out laughing at one of his comments, wheezing and cackling, and it’s absolutely perfect.

She smiles at them, warmth welling into her heart. She repressed this feeling, once. Tamped it down with a cold, smothering truth. _They are your crew. You are their employer. You don’t mean anything to them except work, so you should feel the same. Attachment is a gap in the armour of a criminal._ Every night and every morning she told herself this, hammered it into her subconscious until she believed it whole-heartedly.

And then Dubai happened.

The hollow and nauseous feeling in her chest as she watched them get forced into the police cars, her thick swallow when she heard Zack’s yelp of pain when his head hit the doorframe. Trailing them and planning every escape, calculating how long it would take for VILE to discover that the siblings had been arrested. Who they might send for the murder.

Carmen never grew up in fear. Never really felt it, other than a few times she nearly got in serious trouble. And so her fear when she saw Zack and Ivy, safe and unharmed and freed from prison, manifested into anger. It was a fallback, a wall, one she could hide behind and hurl verbal daggers at them from.

_Amateurs. Pranksters._

She still feels a whole-body sensation of pain when she remembers Zack flinching at the word _useless_. How Ivy stepped forward, fists clenched. Gaze wounded and hurt but still strong and defiant. How she hopped on her bike and shoved the helmet over her face, flicking down the visor to hide the tears leaking from her eyes. It was pointless denying. She cared, and that was okay, and it was good. It made her better than VILE. Humane.

Now she proudly admits her love. How much she cares for and values Zack. Her admiration of Suhara. The things she would do for Player, to make him happy. And yes, she is still never going to tell Ivy that she has wanted to kiss her since Stockholm, would have if the cold wasn’t gripping every one of her limbs with it’s numb strength, dragging the sensation and consciousness from her body _. I’ve been in love with you for nearly 5 years…_ it’s a one way ticket to abandonment town. Ivy doesn’t want that. She would despise her, for keeping something a secret. Knowing that every shared hug and bed meant the world to Carmen and nothing to her.

But that joy always dims and withers when she remembers Zack’s face, as she shoved him off the Ferris wheel in Vienna with a cruel smirk. Suhara’s heavy gasps of pain as she landed her successive punches. The terror and acceptance in Graham’s face as she shoved the charged tip of his crackle rod directly into his gut. Ivy’s reaction to her when she couldn’t remember her name, how it crumpled after the 5th attempt to put a name to the face she secretly loved. Player’s hoarse cry of relief when she talked to him, hiding in the backseat of an SUV and being driven to a Moroccan private airport.

Zack always words her time as VILE faculty as a “different” Carmen. But nowadays, she doesn’t think they were that separate after all. Brainwashed Carmen was who appeared when you scraped away the top layers, like paint peeling off steel. She was Carmen without the empathy, the Carmen that her training as Black Sheep was supposed to have moulded her into. Efficient, brutal, successful. Untethered by sentiments or compassion. Ruthless to the end of the line, unfazed by fragile feelings. Brainwashed Carmen isn’t an entirely different person. Just with a few personality tweaks and edited memories. She still made similar choices, still had the same instincts and training. It’s a horrific realisation. The frailty of honour and illusion of choice. She feels the thump of something warm and hard against her body, numbed. She’s still flashing through memories in her head, dissecting what makes Brainwashed Carmen and herself different, desperately searching for any difference she can find to examine and categorise.

 _“Carmen!”_ Graham shouts from across the room, but it’s muffled and distorted _and is he underwater? He shouldn’t be screaming underwater, actually he shouldn’t be screaming at all. He is still healing after all. Or maybe I’m underwater?_ she thinks. There’s a scuffle in the background, but she can’t hear where from or much at all. One of the clearest sounds around her is ragged breathing, strained gasps and wheezes. _Why is Graham yelling her name when there’s obviously someone who needs help in the very room?!_

 _Oh. It’s me. I’m making that noise._ Everything’s black, and she can’t move, and her throat is closing up in panic. She tries to draw in another lungful of air, but it catches, coming out as a pained scraping whine. She’s floating above the floor, surely, because there’s no sensation of polished wood on her bare legs. Her head aches, pounding. She’s being moved, she can feel it, but there’s no touch on her skin, no warmth. It’s cold, and numb, and she’s dizzy and her mind is shutting and she _still can’t breathe_.

 _“Cahmen? Cahm baby please. Yah need to wake up. Just breathe, deep breaths. I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t know what’s wrong p-”_ she can tell it’s Ivy pleading, and warmth finally floods into her skin where a rough and blistered hand presses against her cheek, gentle but insistent. She leans into it, carefully listening to the voices around her. Discussion, muted explanation, Graham hoarsely yelling for a glass of water and Zack weeping quietly.

 _Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. In for 5 seconds, out for 7 seconds._ It feels like an eternity before she can feel warm arms wrapped around her, smell Ivy’s chocolate shampoo where her nose presses into her shoulder, clearly hear the sounds of everyone around her. She cracks open a single eye, looking over her girlfriend’s shoulder. The first thing her gaze locks onto is Zack, tears streaming down his cheeks in a river, fists pressed against the space between his eye as he sobs quietly.

She shoves herself out of the embrace, a scream tearing itself out of her throat. She doesn’t stop shuffling away from everyone until her head smacks against the edge of the brick wall, dazing her. she holds her hands out defensively, blinking away creeping black from her vision as she stares at the team. Ivy, arms wrapped around herself, tears in her eyes creeping down towards her chin. Graham, phone on 911 speed-dial in hand, one arm wrapped around Zack. Suhara, frantically calling Player, watching her carefully with his face contorted into a pained grimace.

“Cahm. Cahm it’s just me. Yah okay, yah safe” Ivy reassures her, voice soft and cracked. Carmen whimpers and flinches when she moves forward. She stops, muscles straining, conflicted look twisting her features. She wobbles forward and backward, clearly unable to decide how to react.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” Carmen whispers, unable to bring herself to speak any louder. She runs her hands through her hair, tugging slightly at the strands. Graham apologises to the poor 911 dispatcher frantically asking questions, explaining that it was a false alarm and his friend is ok. He hangs up and slips it into his pocket, smiling weakly at her as he shuffles backward, getting Zack to do the same. Everyone except Ivy moves away, showing no reaction to any of them as she watches Carmen with tearful eyes.

“There isn’t anythin’ to be sorry fah, Cahmen. Everyone’s okay. Yah in the kitchen, it’s Thursday morning, we wuh about to have breakfast” she explains. Carmen slows her panicked breathing and flexes her fingers, licking her lips and tasting the salt of her tears.

Ivy shuffles closer, just slightly, and reaches out her hands halfway between them. Bridge-building. Taking the initiative, that first leap. Something that only Ivy’s been doing when it comes to them. She’s so scared of crossing boundaries she doesn’t know about that she never makes any move, and she hates it. The rolling in her chest whenever she wants to do something, standing on the knife edge between too close and too distant. She brushes their fingers together, hands trembling and taking calming breaths. She changes the rhythm when the deep breathing overflows her mind with oxygen and she starts to feel dizzy.

“Yah doin’ great Cahm. Progress, not pehfection” she whispers, weak grin sprouting on her face. Zack hovers near the kitchen sink, scrubbing away his tears, hiccupping softly. Graham places a glass of water on the bench next to Ivy and walks over to her brother, opening his arms slowly. He falls into the embrace and squeezes, choking on his tears and burying his nose in Graham’s shoulder. The shorter man bites his lip and swallows down what is probably a very loud exclamation of pain and rubs his back soothingly. Suhara’s talking to Player, holding his phone away from his face as the younger man borderline screeches into the microphone, asking a barrage of questions.

“What happened?” Carmen whispers, interlocking her fingers with Ivy’s and squeezing tightly. The smile is wiped off Ivy’s face as she frowns again, eyes haunted and expression fractured.

“Yah walked into the room, Zack said good morning, and then yah kinda just… fell” she says quietly, glancing at the other people in the room. “Yah fell to the floor and blacked out ah somethin’ ‘cause then yah couldn’t breath like yah throat all closed up and-” she trails off slowly, staring into Carmen’s eyes. Daggers of guilt slice into her heart, festering like black acid and crushing pain. She pulls Ivy closer by the hands and presses them to the space between her collarbones, forehead resting on her girlfriend’s forearms. Not exactly a romantic move, but there’s a genuine love in it that has her completely hooked. It’s tender and vulnerable, but she feels raw and naked in this kitchen, lying on the floor and surrounded by everyone being loud and panicked.

Ivy slowly crawls forward, burying her face into her wet hair and breathing slowly, repeatedly pressing soft kisses into the mess. Carmen lets go of her fingers, pinned between their bodies, and wraps her arms around her neck. It’s an awkward embrace. Her back aches where the brick wall’s edge jabs into her spine, and Ivy’s knee is almost in her gut, and reaching up hurts her arms. But they shuffle around to get more comfortable and then it’s perfect in everyway possible. Ivy’s soft sniffling, the smell of coffee and steel that soaks into her girlfriend’s very being.

She cracks open an eye when Graham crouches down to their level, swallowing a lump of guilt back as he winces at the protesting creak in his knees. His gaze flits between the two of them, analysing but caring.

“Do you want to move to the couch or your room? We can leave you alone for a while, if you want. The last thing I want is for you to feel overwhelmed right now. But we are going to talk about this tonight, I guarantee” he mumbles, soft and slow voice calming. Again, it’s the blunt caring and consideration that shocks her. No sugar-coating or reassuring half-truths. His words are stability and promise, and they’re welcomed with arms open wide.

“Room” she croaks, squeezing Ivy tightly. It takes some manoeuvring, when neither of them can stand letting go of each other, but they navigate their way into their bed, Ivy hooking their pinkies as she changes out of their pants and pressing her leg to Carmen’s back as she changes out of her coarse shirt. She wraps Carmen into her arms, the taller girl burying her face into Ivy’s neck and tracing patterns onto her side with sluggish hands.

“Jus’ have a nap Cahm. We’ll fix everything lateh” she promises, and Carmen drifts into the promising words of comfort and lets far more welcome darkness slip into her mind, silencing the storm of thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S HURT COMFORT TIME BABIESSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Also the fact that Zack is taller than Graham and Ivy shorter than Carmen? A crime. And yes I made an Egg Boy reference I don't care you can't kill me in a way that matters.
> 
> A Carmen Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1iDsKGwUd12OzD4FQRsbM5?si=2tZnHzEvRYu2eQzORg3P3Q
> 
> So you know how Graham is now blind in his right eye... and so he hits his hand on the benchtop... imaging him trying to pat Carmen's shoulder and he misses and they both just start laughing...  
> Graham: good job on the drone! *accidentally slaps Ivy in the face trying to ruffle her hair*  
> Also he kind of tilts his head to talk to people... lmao. Yeah he does get an eyepatch in later chapters. 
> 
> Also I am thinking... sequel. Where a bunch of ex-VILE operatives and other characters *cough* Sonia *cough* Xi Feng *cough* the driver *cough* just start... arriving at Carmen's doorstop like "hi remember me how do i not be evil and also stay out out prison" and she slowly goes insane while Shadowsan basically adopts everyone.
> 
> MY FRIEND DREW CARMEN WITH SHORT HAIR ASKJCDNKE https://www.instagram.com/p/CLQCtjnABK6/ AND THEN I EDITED IT TO MAKE HER CRYING AND SAD AND HAVE SOFT GOLDEN LIGHTING https://www.instagram.com/p/CLYKj6PAo_Hz1HSz9jr6puuwfQCgQJTYzs_JLU0/ I AM IN L O V E
> 
> The soft R sound: *exists*  
> People from Boston: i pretend i do not see or hear it
> 
> More potential no context spoilers:  
> \- "hello. zuko here"  
> \- hyena bird man commits arson, fights Nazis and spreads bisexual agenda  
> \- taco taco taco  
> \- oh, so they get to shoot bullets at us!?  
> \- after the war  
> \- two gays have a toast to falling in love with carmen sandiego and then realising she's a repressed dumbass  
> \- haha how are you so small  
> \- unseasoned boiled chicken


	6. I don't ever wanna leave (there's a problem) I'll watch you sleep (there's no sleepy girl to wrap you in her loving arms)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much trying to find a rhythm for this chapter and kept getting stuck on ideas and rewriting stuff.
> 
> Pineapple on pizza rights. If you don't like it, then shut up and stop attacking people for eating it. And if you say you don't like it but have never eaten any, then shut up and stop believing classist bias nonsense.
> 
> I really hope y'all enjoy the next chapter, it's going to be my favourite to write for sure.
> 
> Title is from watch you sleep by girl in red and Charlie No.1 by The Whitlams.
> 
> tw // alcohol drinking, implied/referenced sexual content, light gun reference
> 
> Also I am a slut for any and all feedback. This is lowkey kinda freeform so like ABSOLUTELY send me your wonderful ideas please. My ego is very very fragile and I am stoopid. Incorrect quote? Yum Yum send me that shit and I might put it in a chapter. A caper idea? SUBMIT CAPER IDEAS. THE MORE STUPID THE BETTER. "They steal the taxidermized corpse of a legendary race horse" YES PLEASE. "They steal Jeff Bezos's bank records and put them online" YES YES YES AAAAAH. Send me your clever ideas you funky little elf friends who read this story.
> 
> Also if you've checked the comment section... yeah I will start huge conversations with readers without qualms because having chats with writers is so sexy and I love that enthusiasm. If you want it to be more private (which I completely understand and respect) then my discord code is DingyAntelope58#2911!
> 
> I made heaps of memes and fanart of characters in this fanfic, and if y'all want I'll add an epilogue with all those images imbedded. I also made an entire diagram explaining wtf is happening chapter 7 I'll also add.
> 
> Have a very pleasant evening.

Carmen wakes up to the sound of laughter from the living room and her girlfriend tracing letters onto her abdomen. Feigning sleep for a few more moments is worth it, spent breathing in the smell of chocolate and men’s deodorant that soak into the pillow and mattress. What was once her bed has been shared for little more than a week, and already she can drown herself in the warm, rich smell of Ivy. Said girlfriend’s chest is pressed to Carmen’s back, one of her ankles wrapped around the taller woman’s left leg. The letters she writes against her smooth skin with one calloused finger are too hard to decipher in her sleep-addled state of mind, but she yawns and curls around in Ivy’s arms, staring into her wide eyes. She’s blushing intensely, and swallows thickly as she stares into Carmen’s eyes with a careful expression.

“Hello” Ivy whispers, the corners of her lips twitching. Carmen smiles and kisses her, slow and soft. Ivy jolts slightly and gently traces her hand along Carmen’s side, resting it on her hip. Carmen presses her body harder against Ivy’s, rubbing her hand along her firm bicep and gently touching her neck with the other hand. Ivy gasps low and rough, and at lightning speed Carmen’s on top of her hips and gently trailing her nails along Ivy’s abs, kissing along her jawline. Slowly enough that her nails don’t hurt her or dig into the fat deposit under her chest, but it still gets Ivy breathing heavily, pupils dilated wide as they swallow up her shining turquoise eyes. Deeply buried hunger rises into the thief’s gut, rolling like molten ropes. The lust and yearning that for so long has been shoved into the dark pits of her mind and shamefully banished awakens, clearing away the rest of her thoughts in it’s desperation for Ivy and her _incredible_ body.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this for?” Carmen purrs into her ear, scraping at her muscles and feeling them twitch and jump under her fingers. Ivy moans deep and low, barely audible even with Carmen’s ear right next to her mouth. She squeezes Carmen’s hips, tracing along the outside of her bare thighs slowly.

“N-no?” she responds, blinking as Carmen kisses along her collarbone, trying to pull off her own loose shirt as she does it. Ivy stops her by wrapping her arms around her torso and gripping her shoulders, digging in her fingers into her shoulder blades as a whine tears itself from her throat.

“Since Bavaria” she hums with a hard bite to the cords of firm muscle in Ivy’s neck. The redhead swallows back a moan and pants heavily, her voice rough and low with intent. She uses her thigh to leverage Carmen off her hips and pins her to the bed, kissing her slow and deep while cupping her neck and again tracing those words onto her muscled abdomen. Carmen’s trying to string together thoughts about how much she’s wanted this, but every word becomes jumbled as her brain simply drowns in excitement and joy and anticipation. Her fingers are brushing along the neck of Ivy’s shirt when they’re interrupted by a rapid thumping on the door.

“Guys? Graham made pizza for dinner and it looks weird to me but also delicious. Come on!” Zack calls while knocking on the door. They split apart but make no noise, staring intensely into each other’s eyes. Her turquoise irises sparkle, in the low glow of the harbour machinery lights and the never-ending luminescence of a city sky. Again that light smirk pulls at Ivy’s lips, as she scans Carmen’s face. There’s something untold in that gaze, brewing and slumbering. Carmen reaches up to trace her nails along her cheek and brow but stops when Ivy shivers and shakes her head to get rid of the hand, throwing her an apologetic frown.

“Are yah awake bros?” Zack asks, knocking again. Ivy swallows heavily and clears her throat.

“Yeah Zack, weh both awake now. We’ll be out inna few minutes” she says, voice deep and low. Carmen stifles a chuckle into her neck at the obvious arousal in her voice. There’s silence from the other side of the door before Zack groans loudly, and the hollow thump suggests he just bashed his forehead against the wall in frustration.

“Of course. I should’a known you two would be-” he cuts off the sentence with a dramatic retching noise as Ivy groans. Carmen laughs aloud again and crawls off Ivy, fixing up her hair by running her fingers through the strands like a comb.

“We’ll be there right now, Zack” she promises, dragging a groaning Ivy out of bed and kissing her, watching her brighten up at the affection. She pulls a button up shirt (once white but now washed a pastel pink after being thrown into one of Carmen’s infamous darks load one time) off the cluttered desk and wraps it around Ivy’s shoulders, buttoning it up halfway over her black singlet. “After we eat, we’ll head back to bed for some _alone time_ , Ives” she murmurs into her ear, delicately squeezing her thick arm muscles and grinning as her girlfriend’s mouth pops open in an excited gasp.

When they reach the kitchen the first thing they see is Graham slapping Zack’s hand as he tries to steal cheese from the bag. He continues laying toppings onto the pizza base, ignoring Zack’s protests of ‘yah can’t put fish on pizza!’ and ‘capsicum?! Disgraceful, leave this building now’. Carmen internally smiles when she sees how Graham’s dressed in at least 4 layers, while Zack has only a singlet and shorts (Graham is pathetically susceptible to cold ever since Morocco. Even with half his nerves fried he can’t stand it, with too much flesh and muscle stripped from his body to properly insulate himself)

“Have a nice nap y’all?” Graham asks, shoving a handful of mozzarella into his mouth. Carmen leans against the tabletop and smiles as she watches the siblings tease Graham over his use of the contraction, as he scolds them while flushing a light auburn.

“Leave the old man alone guys. Grandpa just gets a little grumpy and confused this late in the evening without his medication and needs to go to bed soon-” Carmen shrieks and laughs as he flings a wet and grimy tea-towel at her, grunting in annoyance.

“All of you can go fuck yourselves” he snarls, pointing his finger at them accusingly. She throws him a middle finger and grins, savouring his annoyed look. She starts boiling the kettle, listening to it bubble and crackle as she pulls mugs out of the shelf.

“Don’t yah mean ‘Y’all can go fuck yourselves’?” Ivy smirks, arms crossed as she raises a brow at him. He throws a second tea towel at her as she flinches away and cackles loudly, sending it flying into his face with a strong pitch. He pulls it off his face, wiping tomato sauce out of his beard with his hoodie sleeve and glaring at the ginger. He wraps both hands in far cleaner towels and pulls a pizza stone out of the oven, sliding it onto a wooden chopping board and putting the other un-cooked pizza into the oven.

“This one has chilli, capsicum, pineapple, pumpkin, capers, roquette, mushroom and chicken” he says, throwing a green vegetable onto it. The siblings looks suspicious and slightly nauseated, but Carmen does not hesitate to take a slice and eat it. The base is thin, too thin to be homemade dough, and she smiles when she realises it’s pre-bought pita bread. It’s crunchy and sweet, and she hums in appreciation.

“This is excellent pizza, Gray. You guys need to have some, like right now” she says, pointing at Ivy and Zack. They both relent, and Zack makes an excited screech when he takes his first bite.

“Holy fuck” Ivy gasps through her mouthful of food, and it takes less than a minute before the entire pizza has vanished from the board.

“I’m making one for everyone. Because I make ‘em with a pita bread base they’re not as filling, so you’ll need an entire one for dinner” Graham smirks, singular eye laser-focused on his work. Carmen climbs onto the bench next to the stove, sitting cross-legged and cradling a cup of hot Smoked Russian Caravan tea and watches Graham interact with the siblings.

He banters with Ivy and guides Zack in making his own pizza, but it’s so damn reminiscent of her days at VILE academy that she’s struck with a surge of warm love and affection. That instinct that’s always resided in him, to protect and nurture and teach, it’s still survived everything. Brotherly and paternal and caring, hidden behind the gruff charm and scarred face and arsenal of deadly and criminal skills. Like a magnet, dragging in or repelling people at his own whim. He hobbles around the kitchen, as Zack and Ivy politely fetch things for him so he can avoid using his crutches, and Carmen smiles achingly hard thinking of all her family, reunited again.

“Where on earth did yah learn to make pizzah this wicked, Graham?” Zack asks, pupils dilated worryingly large as he shoves a slice with an entire egg cracked on top of it in his mouth. Graham laughs and snacks on a slice of smoked salmon as he spreads it out on his own pizza.

“My family is Italian. When they got to Australia, there were just so many things to make pizza with, things they couldn’t get in Italy, especially with wartime rationing and refrigeration not existing yet, so they made a heap of random shit, and the tradition held fast. When I was way smaller, on Saturdays my _papino_ and I would go to a grocery store, shove things that looked edible into the cart and then throw it onto our homemade pizzas with a pita-bread base. _Mia mamma_ would fucking hate that we didn’t use proper homemade dough bases. She and my father clashed a lot over that” he says wistfully. Ivy stares at him, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I thaht you were Australian, not Italian” she blurts, cringing at her own words and mumbling a quick apology. He chuckles good naturedly and waves off her concerns.

“Yeah, Italian-Australian. My family moved down under during WW2. Italy wasn’t exactly a wonderful place then, and there were way too many fucking Nazis and fascist bastards for comfort” he explains, as Ivy and Zack nod, having the vaguest understanding of world history to understand his ancestor’s past dilemma.

“Can yah speak Italian?” Zack asks him, eyes twinkling with excited energy as he steals a slice of Ivy’s. She cries out and kicks his leg, grabbing a slice from Graham’s in retaliation.

“Why are you stealing mine and not Zack’s? You fucking Ellie Sattler looking asshole” he jokingly shouts, shooing her away with one hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ you are an ancient son of a bitch” Ivy groans, looking enough like a frustrated teenager that Carmen stifles her laughter by holding her wrist against her mouth. Gray throws another tea towel at her, grumbling.

“Fuck you. Anyway, yeah. I can speak Italian. My mother _insisted_ that all of us speak it fluently. Cultural dissonance and everything, I guess” he explains, singular eye flicking up to spot Suhara walking down the stairs in a black wicking shirt and athletic pants. His face is just as hollow and weathered as always, but he watches them with a warm blaze in his eyes and an awkward smile.

“I have already eaten. I’ll be in the training room until late in the evening. Good night, I will see you tomorrow” he says in a serious manner, continuing down the next flight of stairs with near silent footsteps. He does return Zack’s wave, something that makes him grin with infectious joy. Zack snatches a pizza off Graham’s plate as the older man gasps in indignation and reaches for the slice, missing by a hilarious amount with only one working eye. He’s about to shove it into his mouth with glee when Carmen spies several slices of smoked salmon buried under a layer of mozzarella, barbecue sauce and capers. She prepares for the fallout, shuffling away from the man and cringing.

“Zack, it has fish!” Ivy shouts, hand outstretched to stop him. He instantly recoils and screams, throwing it away with wide eyes in a sudden panic. It lands directly on Ivy’s face, smearing down her pink shirt and all over her neck and head. She glares at him, fists shaking in rage.

Graham bursts into wheezing, cackling laughter, doubling over and clutching his chest with the force of his laugh. Carmen can’t hold back her amusement either, giggling hard enough that she decides to put her cup of tea down, lest she risk spilling the scalding liquid on herself.

“What tha FUCK Zack!?! Yah complete and utter moronic egg! God why the f-” Ivy erupts like a volcano, waving her arms around wildly. Zack just stares at her in mortification, until a stifled grin creeps onto his face and he starts choking down his own laughter. Carmen smirks, formulating a plan in her mind. One of chaos and mischief, two of her _favourite_ natural forces.

“Hey Ives. Want me to clean off that pizza for you?” she hums, smiling and sending her girlfriend heavy bedroom eyes. Ivy throws her a jokingly annoyed glare as Zack makes a strangled screeching noise and flips them both off, face blushing an intense crimson.

“I just want one dinner. One. Where you two don’t act like disgusting horny teens!” he snaps, eye twitching in anger. Carmen grins at him like a wolf on the hunt and grabs Ivy’s hand, dragging her into an embrace. She wraps both legs around her waist, pressing their bodies together and tilting her chin up to look down at her. Ivy’s eyes widen so much she has to hold back her laugh again, smirking instead as she leans towards her. She presses a filthy kiss to her lips, sighing with pleasure at Ivy’s small squeak of shock. They both stay wrapped into the kiss, feeling the crackles of excitement and warmth spark to life deep in their gut, before Zack screams loudly while hunching in on himself, right in the middle of the kitchen. Ivy pulls away with a wince as Carmen laughs, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and dropping her nose into her hair. Ivy’s neck-kisses are very soft and stealthy, but when Carmen gasps in reaction to the sudden bite to her throat Graham scoffs and glares at them, gesturing angrily.

“Get out of the fucking kitchen, you disgusting bastards. This is a _holy_ place of food creation and you are _desecrating_ it with your _vulgar_ ways” he tears into them, limping towards them like a very annoyed veteran missing his cane and shoves them out of the kitchen, wrinkle lines appearing across his forehead with the force of his frown.

“You can’t kick us out and just ban us from spending quality time here. What are you, the school principal? My dad? A white middle aged Republican commentator when asked what conservative views they’re being oppressed for voicing?” Ivy asks. Graham actually barks out a laugh at that, dusting his shaking hands on his linen apron.

“I’m definitely the school principal, but the very angry tired one with a failing marriage of 20 years who’s waiting for retirement super and is sick of working with children” he adds, scowling. He continues to herd them out of the kitchen as Zack cheers and jokingly sighs in relief. As soon as they reach the bedroom door he drops the angry expression and grins, patting Carmen on the shoulder and nodding his head towards the kitchen.

“Now you have an excuse to spend the night alone, courtesy of me, everyone’s favourite dementia-suffering grandpa, ignorant Republican political commentator, father figure and miserable high school principal. It’s what you both deserve” he lists off, his smile lopsided and dimples forming under his thickening stubble as his eyes twinkle.

“Thank you, Gray. You’re a good friend” Carmen says genuinely. He hobbles back to the kitchen, as Zack groans about the oven timer beeping non-stop.

\---

“You need a drink” Julia comments dryly as Ivy runs her hands through her hair, trying to shove it backwards into a generally neater shape. Texas evening creeps towards them on a lazy Saturday, but the weather is still agonisingly hot. Julia actively avoided all sunlight during the day, like a vampire with a genetic predisposition to skin cancer, grumbling angrily as she scraped sweat off her brow and questioned two gas station workers about the “convoy” they reported to the police a few days ago, one painted in a red and silver decal they’d seen on other property belonging to the mystery right-wing extremist organisation.

“I need many drinks, possibly some substances in my system and a 14-hour nap” Ivy groans. Julia keeps one hand and a knee on the wheel, eyes not straying from their focus on the road as violently blinding red and orange sunlight reflects into their ACME issue car, making Ivy squeeze her eyes shut and turn towards the purple horizon on her right.

“I can’t help you when it comes to substances or the nap, considering we’re in the middle of nowhere at the moment, but drinks I can organise” she adds, eyes twinkling with dull excitement. The bags under her eyes are heavy, expression worn and hollow. Ivy’s watched her all day, her multiple cups of coffee and constant checking of her phone. Both concerning behaviours that don’t reflect the usual Julia she’s known after years of working together.

“You serious about drinks though?” she asks. Street lamps pass over them in pulses, even further illuminating the cabin. Julia nods and opens the car’s GPS map, typing in a command for the nearest store that sold take-home drinks. Ivy blinks at her in shock, concern rising in her mind. Julia argent was a professional, the image of proper protocol and decorum. She never failed or jeopardised the mission, and she certainly didn’t decide to buy drinks on a whim.

“… Are you okay?” Ivy asks, twisting in her seat to face her, watching the twitch in her eyes and taut stretch of her thin smile. Julia breathes in and out a few times, looking dangerously close to exhaustion.

“I’m well, Ivy. Thank you for the concern. It’s nothing urgent or severe. It’s just… when I was at university, and then training for Interpol, my close friends and I would go out for drinks every Friday night, celebration I guess. And when I visited my family, we’d have big drinking celebrations. But I don’t speak to any of those lads anymore, and my family live in Hong Kong, which as you can assume is just a little bit difficult to reach right now. I just missed that, and I was hoping to get at least half-hammered with a good friend tonight. Nostalgia is a shit thing” she sheepishly explains, gesturing vaguely with her free hand. It falls into her lap with a dull slap, as she breathes in through her teeth.

“Sounds like a fuckin’ plan, Julia. Let’s get absolutely blasted on bad beer” she grins, as Julia smirks slightly at her. She slows the car down gently, taking a side road to a gas station with blinding outdoor lights, a 24/7 truck driver’s lounge and a bottle shop. The car slows to a halt in the shadowed car park. Ivy drums her fingers against the leather seat and rests her chin against her fist, watching Julia strip out of her jacket and take her normal, non- pistol from the glovebox, strapping it into her shoulder holster. She pulls on her mask, hitting the back of her head against the seat’s padded headrest.

“Is there anything in particular you want to buy?” she asks. Ivy shrugs, scratching at the back of her head as she thinks.

“Just some beer, pale ale I think’s the stuff. And some nice vodka that you can drink on it’s own” she groans, sinking into her seat. She sits in the darkness and watches Julia browse the store through the windows, going up to a very confronted and shocked late-night worker with a collection of bottles in her arms and a gun on her body. Ivy smiles as she walks out, dumping the plastic bags into the backseat and pressing the car’s on button. The dormant engine growls and roars as she steps on the accelerator, pulling out of the car park with ease.

“This is perfect” she interrupts the silence by nodding at a lookout on the edge of a small valley, shaped like a deep wound in the ground, with a river twinkling in the moonshine and the glare of the freeway’s lights. They can hear wildlife, mostly cicadas and owls, down in the undergrowth. They both climb out of the car, as Julia balances a set of plastic novelty shot glasses on the warm hood of the car. Ivy laughs with excitement, deep and rough, as she fills each one with a cheap brand whiskey and grins at her.

“Shots. To celebrate” Julia smiles, face softening severely.

“Celebration of what?” Ivy asks, poised to cleanly down the shot. Julia stops and tilts her head, pondering the question. The hum of the cicadas down in the valley is a pleasant backdrop to the starry night, as Julia climbs onto the hood, crossing her legs and holding the plastic shot glass delicately in her small hand.

“Being friends and colleagues. We have come a long way since that fashion show in Milan” she smirks, raising the class. They clink them together before downing it. Ivy swallows heavily, the smell bringing tears to her eyes and throat numbing at its silk-like texture. The warmth travels along her nerves, and she turns to watch Julia down another. Her jaw drops open in shock and she laughs, as Julia stops, eyeing her curiously.

“What?” she asks, and Ivy snorts ungracefully, giggling intensely.

“I’m sorry, but your accent- you sound like you’re saying “wot” every time, and I can’t-” her laughs descend into coughing, her throat still tender from the hard drinks.

“Oi, shut up. At least I don’t say “ahfisser” instead of officer. Sometimes I can barely understand what you or your brother are saying” she jabs, pulling out her car keys and the bottle opener attached to them to snap open a bottle of lukewarm beer. Ivy laughs light-heartedly, staring out at the blanket of stars, huge swaths of white dust and specks in the rural open sky. She unscrews the lid on a short glass bottle and takes the sip, the bitter-sweet taste sparkling on her tongue.

“Zackary told me about you and Carmen” she says abruptly, as Ivy chokes on her mouthful of drink.

“What? That fuc-” she grunts, as Julia chuckles lightly, leaning back on one hand and looking at the sky. It reflects on her glasses, like portals into the unknown reaches of the universe. Ivy thinks it’s fitting, for a person like Julia.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t negatively intended. He was just informing me to avoid an… awkward situation” she searches for the words, staring down the neck of her bottle and swirling the liquid inside. Ivy picks at her rough nails, drink trapped between her thighs as she focuses on the torn edges. Julia and Carmen had a… complicated relationship. Whenever someone bought it up, Ivy felt like she’d ended up a barrier between them, some factor in the way of their happiness. She had seen the way Carmen looked at Julia, had spoken about her with such reverence and admiration. And Julia’s praise of the crimson criminal, the revelation that she had quit her job over Carmen. But then Carmen wanted Ivy, and she was there, and Julia was left in the dust, lonely and pained. Her throat wants to jump out of her body and crawl away, tight and burning. She clears her throat to rid of the feeling and rubs her cheek.

“He’s been, um, different lately, I guess” she admits, taking another swig of her drink. “Me and him are arguing a lot thes-” she starts, stopped with a light and teasing slap to the shoulder.

“Him and I” Julia corrects. Ivy rolls her eyes in a joking manner and continues with a groan.

“ _Him and I_ are arguing a lot these days. He insists that Carmen loves me. Really loves me. And I don’t see it, at all. Our relationship, its just physical” she’s blushing at every word, anxiously watching Julia. She looks a bit tense, but her face doesn’t betray discomfort. At least, Ivy thinks so. Julia is pretty good at hiding her feelings, training herself into blankness, civility or anger at convenient times.

“You love her. Romantically” she says. It’s slightly curious, but it feels more like a statement than a question. Ivy cringes, wrapping her arm around herself. The wind must pick up, because that’s the only explanation for the chill that brushes over her bare arms (Chief reprimanding her for rolling up her shirt sleeves and wearing her blazer incorrectly were ineffective and pointless, she’d endured worse scolding before she reached age 10)

“Yes” she murmurs, ashamed and apologetic. Julia sighs and hands her a beer, smiling tiredly. They’re both sitting on the car hood now, warm summer night blowing over their skin with a pleasant breeze. Bonding, affection, comradely love. So welcome in both of their lives.

“Well then, Agent Finnigan. A toast. Not out of celebration. But to falling in love with Carmen Sandiego and being in the most unfortunate predicament” she jokes, raising her drink. Ivy groans in agreement and smacks the tops of their bottles together.

“Fucking Amen to that, sister” she murmurs, before deciding to finish the full drink in one go as Julia cheers her on, laughing loudly the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was worried that Julia was OOC but then I remembered she's a grown adult, lesbian (in this fanfic) and British and I had a realisation that she just got unfairly portrayed by the fandom as some innocent bookworm with no development of her own unless it furthered Carmen's plot... also adult's drink alcohol as a social thing. IDK what your countries are like, but if you don't bring drinks to a social meetup or casual event then you should be ashamed of yourself. That's why we have drive-in bottle shops and can buy alcohol at supermarkets and petrol stations!
> 
> Now it's time for shitposts and incorrect quotes!
> 
> Ivy: *tracing the words "I love you" onto Carmen's skin while she's asleep because she's an absolute sap and dumbass*  
> Carmen: I wish my feelings were requited guess I'm just going to live in agony :'(  
> Julia: *on mission, arresting someone*
> 
> Ivy: ... it's chewsday innit  
> Julia: If you don't shut your fooken mouth-
> 
> Player: *gestures to Graham, Suhara and Chase* gee Zack, how come you get three father figures???
> 
> Graham: Everyone knows that humans evolved from primates. What you don't know is that primates evolved from N A Z I S (https://www.instagram.com/p/CKxkLjfDnj5)
> 
> Graham: is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book *electric piano intensifies*
> 
> Zack: hey man, how you going!  
> Carmen: hey... hey... hi... hey *confusion*  
> Zack: *points at her* weird face. what's happening.  
> Carmen: ... I haven't heard from you in a g e s   
> Zack: *opening a bottle of beer* what are you talking about, I spoke to you *realisation* 2 years ago  
> [tiktok by tea.and.strumpets]
> 
> Zack age 16: bro... dude... ahaha, I just shotgunned like 4 white claws dude, I just shotgunned like 4 white claws, someone's gonna need to call me an uber  
> Graham age 16: um so basically I put about 6 standard drinks in this shoe *holds up sneaker* and I'm going to drink it. And then I'm gonna go over there and chug white wine out of a bag I bought for about 3 dollars... does anybody wanna buy some ecstasy off my boyfriend?  
> [tiktok by cts.trphe]
> 
> Graham: if you haven't spent at least a few weeks in juvenile detention then your childhood was basic as shit and you weren't trying hard enough to survive   
> Julia: ... what   
> Ivy: true  
> Zack: unless you never got caught. That's the exception   
> Carmen: are y'all okay...
> 
> Bellum as a child: i r i d o c y c l i t i s
> 
> Shadowsan: two shots of vodka [pours half the bottle into his mixer]
> 
> Baby Black Sheep: I spilled lipstick in your Valentino bag  
> Cleo: you spilled whlahwwhalkcjwwhulahla LIPSTICK IN MY VALENTINO WHITE BAG?!?!
> 
> Next chapter is a car chase action sequence with heaps of cheesy action tropes and a love declaration.
> 
> Also would y'all rather read a chapter where the gang goes to the beach and has a great time OR a fanfic titled "Graham's adventures as an unofficial consultant for ACME"? Idk which one I'd rather write,

**Author's Note:**

> For so long I thought Zack's name was spelt Zach lmaoooooo. I will keep posting this stuff btw. Mallacoota is a real town I visited recently and it really did get nearly completely destroyed this time last year. And yes, people really did have to climb into the water in the bay to flee the fires. And yes, there is still no mobile service in the town of thousands. And yes, it was deliberately caused by a teenager. BTW the trees when you drive into the town are all either slate grey and leafless, charred black or matte black and covered in so many fresh green leaves they're now fuzzy.
> 
> My Ivy Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0kSHmWn0IhYKiON3mgFrgE?si=pd3bzKLkQ-Oe8vx3AFYtAQ
> 
> My Gray Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7i7soMhvIZH3gf3nBZIoY1?si=xLYvCKXkSmaX0fjw52GFiA
> 
> My Zack Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6ryPRbYNJHFeE20I46XcnP?si=4kcUG7OvTEiZnMV1MdjqHg


End file.
